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THE  BOOMING  OF  ACRE  HILL 

AND  OTHER  REMINISCENCES  OF 
URBAN  AND  SUBURBAN  LIFE 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


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NEW    YORK   AND   LONDON  : 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS. 


The  Booming 
of  Acre  Hill 

and  other 
reminiscences 
of  urban  and 
suburban  life  by 

JOHN  KENDRICK  BANGS 

Illustrations  by 
C.  Dana  Gibson 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS 
PUBLISHERS  MCM 


Copyright,  1900,  by  JOHN  KENDRICK  BANGS. 
All  rights  reserved. 


TO 
WILLIAM  LIVERMORE  KINGMAN 

WITH  AFFECTIONATE  REGARDS 


912770 


THESE  stories  by  Mr.  Bangs  have  appeared 
from  time  to  time  in  The  Ladies'  Home  Journal, 
The  Woman's  Home  Companion,  and  the  various 
publications  of  Messrs.  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


CONTENTS 


THE  BOOMING  OF  ACRE  HILL i 

THE  STRANGE  MISADVENTURES  OF  AN  ORGAN  13 

THE  PLOT  THAT  FAILED 3° 

THE  BASE  INGRATITUDE  OF  BARKIS,  M.D.  49 

THE  UTILITARIAN  MR.  CARRAWAY     ...  64 

THE  BOOK  SALES  OF  MR.  PETERS.     ...  79 

THE  VALOR  OF  BRINLEY 94 

WILKINS 107 

THE  MAYOR'S  LAMPS   .     .  " 122 

THE  BALANCE  OF  POWER 14? 

JARLEY'S  EXPERIMENT 173 

JARLEY'S  THANKSGIVING 193 

HARRY  AND  MAUDE  AND  I — ALSO  JAMES    .  212 
AN  AFFINITIVE  ROMANCE: 

I.  MR.  AUGUSTUS  RICHARDS'S  IDEAL   .  222 
II.  Miss  HENDERSON'S  STANDARD     .     .  224 
III.  A  GLANCE  AT  Miss  FLORA  HENDER 
SON  HERSELF 229 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

IV.  A  BRIEF  GLIMPSE  OF  MR.  AUGUSTUS 

RICHARDS 230 

V.  CONCLUSION 231 

MRS.  UPTON'S  DEVICE  : 

I.  THE  RESOLVE 232 

II.  A  SUCCESSFUL  CASE 244 

III.  A  SET-BACK 252 

IV.  THE  DEVICE  .  261 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"'I'LL     NEVER,      NEVER,      NEVER,     SO 

LONG   AS  I  LIVE'"     .*  .      .      .       .         Frontispiece 
DURING  THE   INTERMEZZO     ....    Facing  p.    264 


THE  BOOMING  OF  ACRE  HILL 


THE   BOOMING  OF  ACRE   HILL 

ACRE  HILL  ten  year?  ago  was  as  void 
of  houses  as  the  primeval  forest.  Indeed, 
in  many  ways  it  suggested  tlH  primeval 
forest.  Then  the  Acre' Hill  Land  Im 
provement  Company  sprang  up  in  a 
night,  and  before  the  bewildered  owners 
of  its  lovely  solitudes  and  restful  glades, 
who  had  been  paying  taxes  on  their 
property  for  many  years,  quite  grasped 
the  situation  they  found  that  they  had 
sold  out,  and  that  their  old-time  paradise 
was  as  surely  lost  to  them  as  was  Eden 
to  Adam  and  Eve. 

To-day  Acre  Hill  is  gridironed  with 
macadamized  streets  that  are  lined  with 
houses  of  an  architecture  of  various  de 
grees  of  badness.  Where  birds  once  sang, 
and  squirrels  gambolled,  and  stray  foxes 
lurked,  the  morning  hours  are  made  mu 
sical  by  the  voices  of  milkmen,  and  the 
squirrels  have  given  place  to  children  and 


THE   BOOMING    OF   ACRE   HILL 

nurse-maids.  Where  sturdy  oaks  stood 
like  sentinels  guarding  the  forest  folk 
from  intrusion  from  the  outside  world 
now  stand  tall  wooden  poles  with  glaring 
white  electric  lights  streaming  from  their 
tops.  And  the  soughing  of  the  winds  in 
the  trees  has  given  place  to  the  clang  of 
the  bounding  trolley..  AH  this  is  the 
work  of  -th'e  Acfe  'Hiil  Laod  Improvement 
Company.. , 

A^et  :if,: 'iis  -I.have  said,  the  Acre  Hill 
Land  Improvement  Company  sprang  up 
in  a  night,  it  passed  many  sleepless  nights 
before  it  received  the  rewards  which  come 
to  him  who  destroys  Nature.  And  when 
I  speak  of  a  corporation  passing  sleepless 
nights  I  do  so  advisedly,  for  at  the  be 
ginning  of  its  career  the  Acre  Hill  Land 
Improvement  Company  consisted  of  one 
man — a  mild-mannered  man  who  had 
previously  labored  in  similar  enterprises, 
and  whose  name  was  called  blessed  in  a 
thousand  uncomfortable  houses  in  un 
comfortable  suburbs  elsewhere,  that,  like 
Acre  Hill,  had  once  been  garden  spots, 
but  had  been  "  improved."  Even  a  pro 
fessional  improver  of  land  finds  sleep 
difficult  to  woo  at  the  beginning  of  such 
an  enterprise.  In  the  first  instance,  when 


THE   BOOMING   OF  ACRE   HILL 

one  buys  land,  giving  a  mortgage  in  full 
payment  therefor,  with  the  land  as 
security,  one  appears  to  have  assumed  a 
moderately  heavy  burden.  Then,  when 
to  this  one  adds  the  enormous  expense  of 
cutting  streets  through  the  most  beauti 
ful  of  the  sylvan  glades,  the  building  of 
sewers,  and  the  erection  of  sample  houses, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  strain  upon  the 
intellect  in  the  selection  of  names  for  the 
streets  and  lanes  and  circles  that  spring 
into  being,  one  cannot  but  wonder  how 
the  master  mind  behind  it  all  manages 
to  survive. 

But  the  Acre  Hill  Land  Improvement 
Company  did  survive,  and  Dumfries 
Corners  watched  its  progress  with  much 
interest.  Regrets  were  expressed  when 
some  historic  knoll  was  levelled  in  order 
to  provide  a  nice  flat  space  for  a  public 
square.  Youngsters  who  had  bagged 
many  a  partridge  on  Acre  Hill  felt  like 
weeping  when  one  stretch  of  bush  after 
another  was  cut  ruthlessly  away  in  order 
that  a  pretentious-looking  structure,  the 
new  home  of  the  Acre  Hill  Country  Club, 
might  be  erected.  Lovers  sighed  when 
certain  noble  old  oaks  fraught  with  senti 
mental  associations  fell  before  the  un- 


THE   BOOMING   OF  ACRE   HILL 

sentimental  axes  of  the  Improvement 
Company  ;  and  numberless  young  Wai- 
tons  muttered  imprecations  upon  the  cor 
poration  that  filled  in  with  stone  and  ashes 
the  dear  old  pond  that  once  gave  forth 
fish  in  great  abundance,  and  through 
earthen  pipes  diverted  the  running  brook, 
that  hitherto  had  kept  it  full,  into  a 
brand-new  sewer. 

These  lovers  of  nature  could  not  under 
stand  the  great  need  of  our  constantly 
growing  population  for  uncomfortable 
houses  in  inconvenient  suburbs,  and  in 
their  failure  to  comprehend  they  became 
cavilers.  But  others — those  who  admire 
the  genius  which  enables  a  man  to  make 
unproductive  land  productive,  who  hail 
as  benefactor  one  who  supplants  a  profit 
less  oak  of  a  thousand  years'  standing 
with  a  thriving  butcher-shop — these  peo 
ple  understood  what  was  being  done  for 
Dumfries  Corners,  but  wondered  how 
the  venture  was  to  be  made  profitable. 
There  were  already  more  vacant  houses 
in  Dumfries  Corners  than  could  be  rent 
ed,  more  butcher-shcps  than  could  be 
supported,  more  clubs  than  could  be  run 
without  a  deficit.  But  the  Acre  Hill 
Land  Improvement  Company  went  on, 
4 


THE   BOOMING   OF  ACRE   HILL 

and  within  three  years  paradise  had  be 
come  earth,  and  the  mild-mannered  and 
exceedingly  amiable  gentleman  who  had 
replaced  the  homes  of  the  birds  with 
some  fifteen  or  twenty  houses  for  small 
families  could  look  about  him  and  see 
greater  results  than  ever  greeted  the  eyes 
of  Romulus  in  the  days  of  the  great  Rome 
Land  Improvement  Company. 

Most  wonderful  of  all,  he  was  still 
solvent !  But  a  city  is  not  a  city,  nor,  in 
its  own  degree,  a  suburb  a  suburb,  with 
out  inhabitants ;  and  while  to  a  mind 
like  that  back  of  the  Acre  Hill  Land  Im 
provement  Company  it  is  seemingly  a 
moderately  easy  task  to  lay  out  a  suburb 
in  so  far  as  its  exterior  appointments  are 
concerned,  the  rub  comes  in  the  getting 
of  citizens.  A  Standard  Oil  magnate  can 
build  a  city  if  he  is  willing  to  spend  the 
money,  but  all  the  powers  of  heaven  and 
earth  combined  cannot  manufacture  off 
hand  a  citizenship.  In  an  emergency  of 
this  nature  most  land  improvement  com 
panies  would  have  issued  pretty  little 
pamphlets,  gotten  up  in  exquisite  taste, 
full  of  beautiful  pictures  and  bubbling 
over  with  enthusiastic  text,  all  based  upon 
possibilities  rather  than  upon  realities. 
5 


THE   BOOMING   OF  ACRE   HILL 

But  the  Acre  Hill  Land  Improvement 
Company  was  sincere  and  honest.  It 
believed  in  advertising  what  it  had  ;  it 
believed  in  dilating  somewhat  on  the 
possibilities,  but  it  was  too  honest  to 
claim  for  itself  virtues  it  did  not  possess. 

So  it  tried  different  methods.  The 
Acre  Hill  Country  Club  was  the  first  of 
these,  and  a  good  idea  it  was.  It  was 
successful  from  the  start,  socially.  Great 
numbers  attended  the  entertainments 
and  dances,  although  these  were  rather 
poorly  conducted.  Still,  the  Country 
Club  was  a  grand  success.  It  gave  much 
and  received  nothing.  Dumfries  Corners, 
reluctant  to  approve  of  anything,  ap 
proved  of  it. 

But  no  lots  were  sold  !  The  Acre  Hill 
Land  Improvement  Company  was  will 
ing  to  make  itself  popular — very  willing. 
Didn't  mind  giving  Dumfries  Corners 
people  free  entertainment,  but  —  lots 
didn't  sell.  What  is  the  use  of  paying 
the  expenses  of  a  club  if  lots  don't  sell  ? 
This  was  a  new  problem  for  the  company 
to  consider.  There  were  sixteen  houses 
ready  for  occupancy,  and  consuming  in 
terest  at  a  terrible  rate,  but  no  one  came 
to  look  at  them.  Acre  Hill  was  a  charm- 
6 


THE   BOOMING   OF  ACRE   HILL 

ing  spot,  no  doubt,  but  for  some  unknown 
reason  or  other  it  failed  to  take  hold  of 
the  popular  fancy,  despite  the  attractions 
of  the  club. 

Suddenly  the  head  of  the  institution 
had  an  idea.  In  the  great  metropolis 
there  was  an  impecunious  and  popular 
member  of  Uppertendom  whose  name 
had  been  appearing  in  the  society  jour 
nals  with  great  frequency  for  years.  He 
formerly  had  been  prosperous,  but  now 
he  was  down  financially ;  yet  society  still 
received  and  liked  him,  for  he  had  many 
good  points  and  was  fundamentally  what 
the  world  calls  a  good  fellow. 

"Why  not  send  for  Jocular  Jimson 
Jones  ?"  suggested  the  head  and  leading 
spirit  of  the  Improvement  Company. 
"  We  can  offer  him  one  of  our  cottages, 
and  pay  his  debts  if  he  has  any,  if  he  will 
live  here  and  give  us  the  benefit  of  his 
social  prestige." 

The  suggestion  was  received  with  en 
thusiasm.  Mr.  Jones  was  summoned, 
came  and  inspected  the  cottage,  and  de 
clined.  He  really  couldn't,  you  know. 
Of  course  he  was  down,  but  not  quite 
down  to  the  level  of  a  cottage  of  that 
particular  kind.  He  still  had  plenty  of 
7 


THE   BOOMING   OF   ACRE    HILL 

friends  whom  he  could  visit  and  who 
would  be  charmed  to  entertain  him  in 
the  style  to  which  he  was  accustomed. 
Why.  therefore,  should  he  do  this  thing, 
and  bring  himself  down  to  the  level  of  the 
ordinary  commuter  ?  No,  indeed.  Not 
he !  The  Directors  saw  the  point,  and  next 
offered  him — and  this  time  he  accepted — 
the  free  use  of  the  residence  of  one  of  the 
officers  of  the  company,  a  really  handsome, 
pretentious  structure,  with  a  command 
ing  view,  stable,  green -houses,  graceful 
lawns,  and  all  other  appurtenances  of 
a  well-appointed  country  seat.  In  ad 
dition  to  the  furnishing  of  the  house  in 
proper  taste,  they  put  coal  in  the  cellar 
and  fly-screens  in  the  windows.  They 
filled  the  residence  with  servants,  and  in 
dorsed  the  young  person  at  the  grocer's 
and  butcher's.  They  bought  him  a  sur 
rey  and  a  depot  wagon.  They  bought 
him  horses  and  they  stocked  him  well 
with  fine  cigars.  They  paid  his  tailor's 
bills,  and  sundry  other  pressing  monetary 
affairs  were  funded.  In  fact,  the  Acre 
Hill  Land  Improvement  Company  set 
Jocular  Jimson  Jones  up  and  then  gave 
him  carte  blanche  to  entertain  ;  and  inas 
much  as  Jocular  had  a  genius  for  enter- 


THE   BOOMING   OF  ACRE   HILL 

taining,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that 
he  availed  himself  of  his  opportunity. 

During  that  first  summer  at  Acre  Hill 
Mr.  Jones  had  the  best  time  of  his  life. 
His  days  were  what  the  vulgar  term  "all 
velvet."  His  new  residence  was  so  superb 
that  it  restored  his  credit  in  the  metropo 
lis,  and  city  "  swells,"  to  whom  he  was 
under  social  obligation,  went  home,  af 
ter  having  been  paid  in  kind,  wondering 
if  Jocular  Jimson  Jones  had  unearthed 
somewhere  a  recently  deceased  rich  uncle. 
He  gave  suppers  of  most  lavish  sort.  He 
had  vaudeville  shows  at  the  club-house, 
with  talent  made  up  of  the  most  exclusive 
young  men  and  women  of  the  city.  The 
Amateur  Thespians  of  the  Borough  of 
Manhattan  gave  a  whole  series  of  per 
formances  at  the  club  during  the  autumn, 
and  by  slow  degrees  the  society  papers  be 
gan  to  take  notice.  Acre  Hill  began  to  be 
known  as  "  a  favorite  resort  of  the  400." 
Nay,  even  the  sacred  150  had  penetrated 
to  its  very  core,  wonderingly,  however, 
for  none  knew  how  Jocular  Jimson  Jones 
could  do  it.  Still,  they  never  declined 
an  invitation.  As  a  natural  result  the 
market  for  Acre  Hill  lots  grew  active. 
The  sixteen  cottages  were  sold,  and  the 
9 


THE   BOOMING  6F  ACRE   HILL 

purchasers  found  themselves  right  in  the 
swim.  It  was  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world  to  get  into  society  if  you  only 
knew  how.  Jocular  Jimson  Jones  was 
a  fine,  approachable,  neighborly  person, 
and  at  the  Country  Club  dances  was 
quite  as  attentive  to  the  hitherto  un 
known  Mrs.  Scraggs  as  he  was  to  Mrs. 
John  Jacob  Wintergreen,  the  acknowl 
edged  leader  of  the  400.  Mrs.  Winter- 
green,  too,  was  not  unapproachable.  She 
talked  pleasantly  during  a  musicale  at  the 
club-house  with  Mr.  Scraggs,  and  said 
she  hoped  some  day  to  have  the  pleas 
ure  of  meeting  Mrs.  Scraggs  ;  and  when 
Scraggs,  in  response,  said  he  would  go 
and  get  her  she  most  amiably  begged  him 
not  to  leave  her  alone. 

Months  went  by,  and  where  sixteen 
empty  houses  had  been,  there  were  now 
sixty  all  occupied,  and  lots  Were  going 
like  hot  cakes.  Tuxedo  was  in  the  shade. 
Lenox  was  dying.  Newport  was  dead. 
Society  flocked  to  Acre  Hill  and  hobnob 
bed  with  Acre  Hillians.  Acre  Hillians 
became  somewhat  proud  of  themselves, 
and  rather  took  to  looking  down  upon 
Dumfries  Corners  people.  Dumfries 
Corners  people  were  nice,  and  all  that, 
10 


THE   BOOMING   OF  ACRE   HILL 

but  not  particularly  interesting  in  the 
sense  that  "  our  set,"  with  Jocular  Jimson 
Jones  at  the  head  of  it,  was  interesting. 

Then  came  the  County  Ball.  This 
Jocular  engineered  himself,  and  the 
names  of  the  lady  patrons  were  selected 
from  the  oldest  and  the  newest  on  the 
list.  Mrs.  Wintergreen's  name  led,  of 
course,  but  Mrs.  Scraggs'  name  was  there 
too,  sandwiched  in  between  those  of  Mrs. 
Van  Cortlandtuyvel  and  Mrs.  Gardenior, 
of  Gardenior's  Island,  representing  two 
families  which  would  carry  social  weight 
either  in  Boston  or  the  "other  side  of 
Market  Street."  There  were  four  exalted 
names  from  the  city,  one  from  Dumfries 
Corners,  and  seven  from  Acre  Hill. 

Then  more  lots  sold,  and  still  more, 
and  then,  alas,  came  the  end  !  Jocular 
Jimson  Jones  was  too  successful. 

After  two  years  of  glory  the  social  light 
of  Acre  Hill  went  out.  The  Acre  Hill 
Land  Improvement  Company  retired 
from  the  business.  All  its  lots  were  sold, 
and,  of  course,  there  was  no  further  need 
for  the  services  of  Jocular  Jimson  Jones. 
His  efforts  were  crowned  with  success. 
His  mission  was  accomplished,  but  he 
ii 


THE    BOOMING   OF  ACRE   HILL 

moved  away  —  I  think  regretfully,  for, 
after  all,  he  had  found  the  Acre  Hill 
people  a  most  likable  lot — but  it  was  in 
evitable  that,  there  being  no  more  fish  to 
catch,  the  anglers  needed  no  bait,  and 
Jocular  Jimson  had  to  go.  Where  he  has 
gone  to  there  is  no  one  who  knows.  He 
has  disappeared  wholly,  even  in  the  me 
tropolis,  and,  most  unfortunately  for 
Acre  Hill,  with  Jocular  Jimson  Jones 
have  departed  also  all  its  social  glories. 
None  of  the  elect  come  to  its  dances  any 
more.  The  amateur  thespians  of  the 
exclusive  set  no  longer  play  on  the  stage 
of  its  club-house,  and  it  was  only  last 
week  that  Mrs.  John  Jacob  Wintergreen 
passed  Mr.  Scraggs  on  the  street  with  a 
cold  glare  of  unrecognition. 

Possibly  when  Acre  Hill  reads  this  it 
will  understand,  possibly  not. 

Dumfries  Corners  people  understood  it 
right  along,  but  then  they  always  were  a 
most  suspicious  lot,  and  fond  of  an  amus 
ing  spectacle  that  cost  them  nothing. 


THE  STRANGE   MISADVENTURES 
OF  AN  ORGAN 

CARSON  was  a  philosopher,  and  on  the 
whole  it  was  a  great  blessing  that  he  was 
so.  No  man  needed  to  be  possessor  of 
a  philosophical  temperament  more  than 
he,  for,  in  addition  to  being  a  resident 
of  Dumfries  Corners,  Carson  had  other 
troubles  which,  to  an  excitable  nature, 
would  have  made  life  a  prolonged  period 
of  misery.  He  was  the  sort  of  a  man  to 
whom  irritating  misfortunes  of  the  mos 
quito  order  have  a  way  of  coming.  To 
some  of  us  it  seemed  as  if  a  spiteful  Nat 
ure  took  pleasure  in  pelting  Carson  with 
petty  annoyances,  none  of  them  large 
enough  to  excite  compassion,  many  of 
them  of  a  sort  to  provoke  a  quiet  smile. 
Of  all  the  dogs  in  the  neighborhood  it 
was  always  his  dog  that  got  run  into  the 
pound,  although  it  was  equally  true  that 
Carson's  dog  was  one  of  the  few  that 
13 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

were  properly  licensed.  If  he  bought  a 
new  horse  something  would  happen  to  it 
before  a  week  had  elapsed  ;  and  how  his 
coachman  once  ripped  off  the  top  of  his 
depot  wagon  by  driving  it  under  a  loose 
telephone  wire  is  still  one  of  the  stories 
of  the  vicinity  in  which  he  lives.  Any 
thing  out  of  the  way  in  the  shape  of 
trouble  seemed  to  choose  the  Carson 
household  for  experimental  purposes. 
He  was  the  medium  by  which  new  varie 
ties  of  irritations  were  introduced  to  an 
ungrateful  world,  but  such  was  his  nature 
that,  given  the  companionship  of  Herbert 
Spencer  and  a  cigar,  he  could  be  abso 
lutely  counted  on  not  to  murmur. 

This  disposition  to  accept  the  trials 
and  tribulations  which  came  upon  him 
without  a  passionate  outburst  was  not 
by  any  means  due  to  amiability.  Car 
son  was  of  too  strong  a  character  to  be 
continually  amiable.  He  merely  exer 
cised  his  philosophy  in  meeting  trouble. 
He  boiled  within,  but  presented  a  calm, 
unruffled  front  to  the  world,  simply  be 
cause  to  do  otherwise  would  involve 
an  expenditure  of  nervous  force  which 
he  did  not  consider  to  be  worth  while. 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

I  can  never  forget  the  sense  of  admiring 
regard  which  I  experienced  when  in 
Genoa,  while  he  and  I  were  about  to 
enter  our  banker's  together,  he  slipped 
upon  a  bit  of  banana  peeling,  bruising 
his  knee  and  destroying  his  trouser  leg. 
I  should  have  indulged  in  profane  allu 
sions  to  the  person  who  had  thoughtlessly 
thrown  the  peeling  upon  the  ground  if 
by  some  mischance  the  accident  had  hap 
pened  to  me.  Carson,  however,  did  noth 
ing  of  the  sort,  but  treated  me  to  a  forci 
ble  abstract  consideration  of  the  unthink 
ing  habits  of  the  masses. 

The  unknown  individual  who  was 
responsible  for  the  accident  did  not  enter 
into  the  question  ;  no  one  was  consigned 
to  everlasting  torture  in  the  deepest 
depths  of  purgatory  ;  a  calm,  dispassion 
ate  presentation  of  an  abstraction  was 
all  that  greeted  my  ears.  The  practice 
of  thoughtlessness  was  condemned  as  a 
thing  entirely  apart  from  the  practitioner, 
and  as  a  tendency  needing  correction. 
Inwardly,  I  know  he  swore  ;  outwardly, 
he  was  as  serene  as  though  nothing  un 
toward  had  happened  to  him.  It  was 
then  that  I  came  to  admire  Carson.  Be 
fore  that  he  had  my  affectionate  regard 
IS 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

in  fullest  measure,  but  now  admiration 
for  his  deeper  qualities  set  in,  and  it  has 
in  no  sense  diminished  as  time  has  passed. 
Once,  and  once  only,  have  I  known  him 
to  depart  from  his  philosophical  demean 
or,  and  that  one  departure  was,  I  think, 
justified  by  the  situation,  since  it  was  the 
culminating  point  of  a  series  of  aggrava 
tions,  to  fail  to  yield  to  which  would  have 
required  a  more  than  human  strength. 

The  incident  to  which  I  refer  was  in 
connection  with  a  fine  organ,  which  at 
large  expense  Carson  had  had  built  in  his 
house,  for,  like  all  philosophers,  Carson 
has  a  great  fondness  for  music,  and  is 
himself  a  musician  of  no  mean  capacity. 
I  have  known  him  to  sit  down  under  a 
parlor-lamp  and  read  over  the  score  of 
the  "  Meistersinger  "  just  as  easily  as  you 
or  I  would  peruse  one  of  the  lighter 
novels  of  the  day.  This  was  one  of  his 
refuges.  When  his  spirit  was  subjected 
to  an  extreme  tension  he  relieved  his  soul 
by  flying  to  the  composers  ;  to  use  his 
own  very  bad  joke,  when  he  was  in  need 
of  composure  he  sought  out  the  "  com 
posures."  As  time  progressed,  however, 
and  the  petty  annoyances  grew  more 
numerous,  the  merely  intellectual  pleas- 
16 


MISADVENTURES  OF  AN   ORGAN 

ure  of  the  writings  of  Wagner  and  Handel 
and  Mozart  possibly  failed  to  suffice,  and 
an  organ  was  contracted  for. 

"  I  enjoy  reading  the  music,"  said  he  as 
we  sat  and  talked  over  his  plan,  "  but 
sometimes — very  often,  in  fact — I  feel  as 
if  something  ought  to  shriek,  and  I'm 
going  to  have  an  organ  of  my  own  to  do 
it  for  me." 

So,  as  I  have  said,  the  organ  was  con 
tracted  for,  was  built,  and  an  additional 
series  of  trials  began.  Upon  a  very  im 
portant  occasion  the  organ  declined  to 
shriek,  although  every  effort  to  persuade 
it  to  perform  the  functions  for  which  it 
was  designed  was  made.  Forty  or  fifty 
very  charming  people  were  gathered  to 
gether  to  be  introduced  to  the  virtues  of 
the  new  instrument — for  Carson  was  not 
the  kind  of  man  to  keep  to  himself  the 
good  things  which  came  into  his  life  ;  he 
shared  all  his  blessings,  while  keeping 
his  woes  to  himself ;  a  well-known  virtu 
oso  was  retained  to  set  forth  the  possibili 
ties  of  the  acquisition,  and  all  was  going 
as  "merry  as  a  marriage  bell"  when 
suddenly  there  came  a  wheeze,  and  the 
fingers  of  the  well-known  virtuoso  were 
B  17 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

powerless  to  elicit  the  harmonious  shrieks 
which  all  had  come  to  hear. 

It  was  a  sad  moment,  but  Carson  was 
equal  to  the  occasion. 

"  Something's  out  of  gear,"  he  said, 
with  a  laugh  due  rather  to  his  philo 
sophical  nature  than  to  mirth.  "  I'm 
afraid  we'll  have  to  finish  on  the  piano." 

And  so  we  did,  and  a  delightful  evening 
we  had  of  it,  although  many  of  us  went 
home  wondering  what  on  earth  was  the 
matter  with  the  organ. 

A  few  days  later.  I  met  Carson  on  the 
train  and  the  mystery  was  solved. 

"  The  trouble  was  with  the  water- 
pipes,"  he  explained.  "  They  were  put 
in  wrong,  and  the  location  of  the  house 
is  such  that  every  time  Colonel  Hawkins, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  takes  a 
bath,  all  the  water  that  flows  down  the 
hill  is  diverted  into  his  tub." 

I  tried  not  to  laugh. 

"  You'll  have  to  enter  into  an  agreement 
with  the  Colonel,"  I  said.  "Make  him 
promise  not  to  bathe  between  certain 
hours." 

"That's  a  good  idea,"  said  Carson, 
smiling,  "  but  after  all  I  guess  I'd  better 
18 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

change  the  pipes.  Heaven  forbid  that  in 
days  like  these  I  should  seek  to  let  any 
personal  gratification  stand  between  an 
other  man  and  the  rare  virtue  of  cleanli 
ness." 

Several  weeks  went  by,  and  men  were 
busily  employed  in  seeing  that  the  water 
supply  needed  for  a  proper  running  of  the 
organ  came  direct  from  the  mains,  in 
stead  of  coming  from  a  pipe  of  limited 
capacity  used  in  common  by  a  half  dozen 
or  more  residents  of  a  neighboring  side 
street. 

Somewhere  about  the  end  of  the  fourth 
week  Carson  invited  me  to  dinner.  The 
organ  was  all  right  again,  he  said.  The 
water  supply  was  sufficient,  and  if  I  cared 
to  I  might  dine  with  him,  and  afterward 
spend  an  evening  sitting  upon  the  organ 
bench  while  Carson  himself  manipulated 
the  keys.  I  naturally  accepted  the  in 
vitation,  since,  in  addition  to  his  oth 
er  delightful  qualities,  Carson  is  a  past 
grand-master  in  the  art  of  giving  dinners. 
He  is  a  man  with  a  taste,  and  a  dinner 
good  enough  for  him  is  a  thing  to  arouse 
the  envy  of  the  gods.  Furthermore,  as  I 
have  already  said,  he  is  a  musician  of  no 
mean  order,  and  I  know  of  no  greater 
19 


MISADVENTURES  OF  AN  ORGAN 

pleasure  than  that  of  sitting  by  his  side 
while  he  "  potters  through  a  score,"  as 
he  puts  it.  But  there  was  a  disappoint 
ment  in  store  for  us.  I  called  at  the 
appointed  hour  and  found  the  household 
more  or  less  in  consternation.  The  cook 
had  left,  and  a  dinner  of  "  cold  things  " 
confronted  us. 

"  She  couldn't  stand  the  organ,"  ex 
plained  Carson.  "  She  said  it  got  on  to 
her  nerves — '  rumblin'  like.'  " 

I  gazed  upon  him  in  silent  sympathy 
as  we  dined  on  cold  roast  beef,  stuffed 
olives,  and  ice  cream. 

"  This  is  serious,"  my  host  observed  as 
we  sat  over  our  coffee  and  cigars  after 
the  repast.  "  That  woman  was  the  only 
decent  cook  we've  managed  to  secure  in 
seven  years,  and,  by  Jingo,  the  minute  she 
gets  on  to  my  taste  the  organ  gets  on  to 
her  nerves  and  she  departs  !" 

"  One  must  eat,"  I  observed. 

"  That's  just  it,"  said  Carson.  "  If  it 
comes  to  a  question  of  cook  or  organ  the 
organ  will  have  to  go.  She  was  right 
about  it,  though.  The  organ  does  rum 
ble  like  the  dickens.  Some  of  the  bass 
notes  make  the  house  buzz  like  an  ocean- 
steamer  blowing  off  steam." 
20 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN  ORGAN 

It  was  a  picturesque  description,  for  I 
had  noticed  at  times  that  when  the  organ 
was  being  made  to  shriek  fortissimo 
every  bit  of  panelling  in  the  house  seemed 
to  rattle,  and  if  a  huge  boiler  of  some  sort 
suffering  from  internal  disturbance  had 
been  growling  down  in  the  cellar,  the 
result  would  have  been  quite  similar. 

"  It  may  work  out  all  right  in  time," 
Carson  said.  "The  thing  is  new  yet, 
and  you  can't  expect  it  to  be  mellow  all 
at  once.  What  I'm  afraid  of,  apart  from 
the  inability  of  our  cook  to  stand  the 
racket,  is  that  this  quivering  will  struct 
urally  weaken  the  house.  What  do  you 
think  ?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  I  said.  "Some 
of  the  wainscot  panels  rattle  a  bit,  but  I 
imagine  the  house  will  stand  it  unless 
you  go  in  too  much  for  Wagner.  *  Tann- 
hauser '  or  *  Siegfried  '  might  shake  a  few 
beams  loose,  but  lighter  music,  I  think, 
can  be  indulged  in  with  impunity." 

Time  did  not  serve,  as  Carson  had 
hoped,  to  mellow  things.  Indeed,  the 
succeeding  weeks  brought  more  trouble, 
and  most  of  it  came  through  the  organ. 
Some  of  the  rattling  panels,  in  spite  of 
every  effort  to  make  them  fast,  rattled 
21 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN  ORGAN 

the  more.  One  night  when  the  servants 
were  alone  in  the  house,  of  its  own  voli 
tion  the  organ  sent  forth,  to  break  the  still 
hours,  a  blood-curdling  basso-profundo 
groan  that  suggested  ghosts  to  their 
superstitious  minds.  The  housemaid 
came  to  regard  the  instrument  as  some 
thing  uncanny,  and,  even  as  the  cook  had 
done  before  her,  shook  the  dust  of  the 
house  of  Carson  from  her  feet. 

Then  a  rat  crawled  into  one  of  the 
pipes — -Carson  was  unable  to  ascertain 
which — and  died  there,  with  results  that 
baffle  description.  I  doubt  if  Wagner 
himself  could  have  expressed  the  situa 
tion  in  his  most  inspired  moments.  Still 
Carson  was  philosophical. 

"I'll  play  a  requiem  to  the  rodent,"  he 
said,  "  that  will  make  him  turn  over  in 
his  grave,  wherever  that  interesting  spot 
may  be." 

This  he  did,  and  the  effect  was  superb, 
and  no  doubt  the  deceased  did  turn  over 
in  his  grave,  for  the  improvisation  called 
into  play  every  pipe  on  the  whole  instru 
ment.  However,  I  could  see  that  this 
constant  pelting  at  the  hands  of  an  un 
kind  fate  through  the  medium  of  his 
most  cherished  possession  was  having  its 

22 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

effect  upon  Carson's  hitherto  impregna 
ble  philosophy.  When  he  spoke  of  the 
organ  it  was  with  a  tone  of  suppressed 
rrriiation  which  boded  ill,  and  finally  I 
was  not  surprised  to  hear  that  he  had 
offered  to  give  the  organ  away. 

"  After  all,"  he  said,  "  I  made  a  mistake 
— flying  so  high.  A  man  doesn't  want  a 
church-organ  in  his  house  any  more  than 
he  wants  an  elephant  for  a  lap-dog.  I've 
offered  it  to  the  Unitarian  Church." 

I  felt  a  little  hurt  about  this,  for  my 
own  church  was  badly  in  need  of  an  in 
strument  of  that  nature,  but  I  said  noth 
ing,  and  considering  the  amount  of 
trouble  the  organ  had  given  I  got  over 
my  regret  when  I  realized  that  the  Uni 
tarian  Church,  and  not  mine,  was  shortly 
to  have  it.  In  this,  however,  I  was  mis 
taken,  for,  after  due  deliberation,  the 
Unitarians  decided  that  the  organ  was  so 
very  large  that  they'd  have  to  build  a  new 
church  to  go  with  it,  and  so  declined  it 
with  thanks. 

Carson  bit  his  lip  and  then  offered  it 
to  us.  "  Don't  seem  to  be  able  to  give 
it  away,"  he  said.  "But  I'll  try  again. 
You  tell  your  vestry  that  if  they  want  it 
they  can  have  it.  I'll  take  it  out  and  put 
23 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

it  in  the  barn  up  in  the  hay-loft.  They 
can  take  it  or  leave  it.  It  will  cost  them 
cartage  and  the  expense  of  putting  it  up." 

I  thanked  him,  and  joyously  referred 
the  matter  to  the  vestry.  At  first  the 
members  of  that  body  were  as  pleased  as 
I  was,  but  after  a  few  minutes  of  jubila 
tion  the  Chairman  of  the  Finance  Com 
mittee  asked,  "  How  much  will  it  cost  to 
get  this  thing  into  shape  ?" 

Nobody  knew,  and  finally  the  accept 
ance  of  the  gift  was  referred  to  a  com 
mittee  consisting  of  the  Chairman  of  the 
Finance  Committee,  the  Chairman  of  the 
Music  Committee,  and  myself,  with  full 
power  to  act. 

Inquiry  showed  that  the  cost  of  every 
item  in  connection  with  the  acceptance 
of  the  gift  would  amount  to  about  a 
thousand  dollars,  and  we  called  upon 
Carson  to  complete  the  arrangement. 
He  received  us  cordially.  We  thanked 
him  for  his  generosity,  and  were  about  to 
accept  the  gift  finally,  when  the  Chair 
man  of  the  Finance  Committee  said  : 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,  Mr.  Carson, 
to  give  us  this  organ.     Heaven  knows 
we  need  it,  but  it  will  cost  us  about  a 
thousand  dollars  to  put  it  in." 
24 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

"So  I  judged,"  said  Carson.  "But 
when  it  is  in  you'll  have  a  thirty-five- 
hundred-dollar  organ." 

"  Splendid  !"  ejaculated  the  Chairman 
of  the  Music  Committee. 

"  The  great  difficulty  that  now  con 
fronts  us,"  said  the  financier,  "  is  as  to 
how  we  shall  raise  that  money.  The 
church  is  very  poor." 

"  I  presume  it  is  a  good  deal  of  a 
problem  in  these  times,"  acquiesced 
Carson.  "  Ah—" 

"  It's  a  most  baffling  one,"  continued 
the  financier.  "  I  suppose,  Mr.  Carson," 
he  added,  "  that  if  we  do  put  it  in  and 
pass  around  a  subscription  paper,  we 
can  count  on  you  for — say  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  ?" 

I  stood  aghast,  for  I  saw  the  thread  of 
Carson's  philosophy  snap. 

"What?"  he  said,  with  an  effort  to 
control  himself. 

"  I  say  I  suppose  we  can  count  on  you 
for  a  subscription  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars,"  repeated  the  financier. 

There  was  a  pause  that  seemed  an  eter 
nity  in  passing.  Carson's  face  worked 
convulsively,  and  the  seeming  compla 
cency  of  the  Chairman  of  the  Finance 
25 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

Committee  gave  place  to  nervous  appre 
hension  as  he  watched  the  color  surge 
through  the  cheeks  and  temples  of  our 
host. 

He  thought  Carson  was  about  to  have 
a  stroke  of  apoplexy. 

I  tried  to  think  of  something  to  say 
that  might  relieve  the  strain,  but  it 
wouldn't  come,  and  on  the  whole  I 
rather  enjoyed  the  spectacle  of  the 
strong  philosopher  struggling  with  in 
clination,  and  I  think  the  philosopher 
might  have  conquered  had  not  the  Chair 
man  of  the  Music  Committee  broken  in 
jocularly  with: 

"  Unless  he  chooses  to  make  it  five 
hundred  dollars,  eh  ?"  And  he  grinned 
maddeningly  as  he  added:  "If  you'll 
give  five  hundred  dollars  we'll  put  a 
brass  plate  on  it  and  call  it  *  The  Carson 
Memorial,'  eh  ?  Ha — ha — ha." 

Carson  rose  from  his  seat,  walked  into 
the  hall  and  put  on  his  hat. 

»  Mr. — ah — Blank,"  said  he  to  the 
financier,  "would  you  and  Mr.  Hicks 
mind  walking  down  to  the  church  with 
me?" 

"  Say,  he's  going  to  put  it  in  for  us!" 
whispered  Hicks,  the  Chairman  of  the 
26 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

Music   Committee,    rubbing    his   hands 
gleefully. 

"  Don't  you  want  me,  Carson  ?"  I 
asked,  rising. 

"No  —  you  stay  here!"  he  replied, 
shortly. 

And  then  the  three  went  out,  while  I 
lit  a  cigar  and  pottered  about  Carson's 
library.  In  half  an  hour  he  returned 
alone.  His  face  was  red  and  his  hand 
trembled  slightly,  but  otherwise  he  had 
regained  his  composure. 

"  Well  ?"  said  I. 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  put  it  up,"  said  he. 

"  Now — see  here,  Carson,"  I  remon 
strated.  It  seemed  so  like  a  rank  impo 
sition  on  his  generosity.  To  give  the 
organ  was  enough,  without  putting  him 
to  the  expense  of  erecting  it. 

"  Don't  interrupt,"  said  he.  "  I'm  not 
going  to  put  it  up  in  the  organ-loft,  as 
you  suppose,  but  in  a  place  where  it  is 
likely  to  be  quite  as  much  appreci 
ated." 

"And  that?"  I  asked. 

"  In  the  hay-loft,"  he  replied. 

"  I  don't  blame  you,"  said  I,  after  a 
pause. 

"  Neither  do  I,"  said  he. 
27 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

"But  why  did  you  go  down  to  the 
church  ?"  I  asked. 

"Well,"  he  explained,  chuckling  in 
spite  of  himself.  "  It  was  this  way.  My 
grandfather,  I  have  been  told,  used  to 
be  able  to  express  himself  profanely 
without  using  a  profane  word,  but  I 
can't,  and  there  were  one  or  two  things 
I  wanted  to  say  to  those  men  that 
wouldn't  go  well  with  the  decorations 
of  my  house,  and  which  couldn't  very 
well  be  said  to  a  guest  in  my  house." 

"  But,  man  alive,  you  didn't  go  to  the 
church  to  do  your  swearing  ?" 

"  No,"  he  answered.  "  I  did  it  on  the 
way  down ;  and,"  he  added,  enthusiasti 
cally,  "  I  did  it  exceeding  well." 

"  But  why  the  church  ?"  I  persisted. 

"  I  thought  after  what  I  had  to  say  to 
them,"  said  he,  "  that  they  might  need  a 
little  religious  consolation." 

And  with  that  the  subject  was  dropped. 

The  organ,  as  Carson  threatened,  was 
transferred  to  the  hay -loft  and  not  to 
the  church,  and  as  for  the  two  Chair 
men,  they  have  several  times  expressed 
themselves  to  the  effect  that  Carson  is  a 
very  irritable,  not  to  say  profane,  person. 

But  I  am  still  inclined  to  think  him 
28 


MISADVENTURES   OF  AN   ORGAN 

a  philosopher.  Under  the  provocation 
any  man  of  a  less  philosophical  tempera 
ment  might  have  forgotten  the  laws  of 
hospitality  and  cursed  his  offending 
guests  in  his  own  house. 


THE  PLOT  THAT  FAILED 

AMONG  the  most  promising  residents 
of  Dumfries  Corners  some  ten  years 
ago  was  a  certain  Mr.  Richard  Part- 
ington  Smithers,  whose  brilliant  debut 
and  equally  sudden  extinguishment  in 
the  field  of  literary  endeavor  have  given 
rise  from  time  to  time  to  no  little  dis 
cussion.  He  was  young,  very  young, 
indeed,  at  the  time  of  his  great  literary 
success,  and  his  friends  and  neighbors 
prophesied  great  things  for  him.  Yet 
nothing  has  since  come  from  nis  pen, 
and  many  have  wondered  why. 

Thanks  to  Mr.  Smithers  himself  I  am 
enabled  to  make  public  the  story  of  his 
sudden  withdrawal  from  the  ranks  of 
the  immortals  when  on  the  very  thresh 
old  of  the  temple  of  fame. 

Ten  years  have  changed  his  point  of 
view  materially,  and  an  experience  that 
once  seemed  tragedy  to  him  is  now  in 
30 


THE   PLOT   THAT   FAILED 

his  eyes  sufficiently  tinged  with  com 
edy,  and  his  own  position  among  us 
is  so  secure  that  he  is  willing  that 
the  story  of  his  failure  should  go 
forth. 

After  trying  many  professions  Smith- 
ers  had  become  a  man  of  schemes.  He 
devised  plans  that  should  enrich  other 
people.  Unfortunately,  he  sold  these  to 
other  people  on  a  royalty  basis,  and  so 
failed  to  grow  rich  himself.  If  he  had 
only  sold  his  plans  outright  and  collect 
ed  on  the  spot  he  might  sometime  have 
made  something ;  but  this  he  did  not 
do,  and  as  a  consequence  he  rarely  made 
anything  that  was  at  all  considerable, 
and  finally,  to  keep  the  wolf  out  of  his 
dining-room,  he  was  forced  to  take  up 
poetry,  that  being  in  his  estimation  the 
last  as  well  as  the  easiest  resource  of  a 
well-ordered  citizen. 

"  I  always  threatened  to  take  up  poetry 
when  all  else  had  failed  me,"  he  said  to 
himself;  "therefore  I  will  now  proceed 
to  take  up  poetry.  Writing  is  purely 
manual  labor,  anyhow.  Given  a  pad,  a 
pencil,  and  perseverance — three  very  im 
portant  p's — and  I  can  produce  a  fourth, 
a  poem,  in  short  order.  Sorry  I  didn't 


THE   PLOT  THAT  FAILED 

get  to  the  end  of  my  other  ropes  before, 
now  that  I  think  of  it." 

And  so  he  sat  down  and  took  up  poetry. 

He  put  it  down  again,  however,  very 
quickly. 

"  Dear  me  !"  he  ejaculated.  "  Now, 
who'd  have  thought  that  ?  Here  I  have 
the  pencil  and  the  pad  and  the  perse 
verance,  but  I'm  hanged  if  the  poem  is 
quite  as  easy  as  I  had  supposed.  These 
little  conceits  aren't  so  easy  to  write,  after 
all,  even  when  they  contain  no  ideas. 
Of  course,  it  isn't  hard  to  say: 

"  '  Sweet  month  of  May,  time  of  the  violet  wild, 
The  dandelion  golden,  and  the  mild 
Ethereal  sweetness  of  the  blossoming  trees, 
The  soft  suggested  calor  of  the  breeze, 
The  ruby-breasted  robin  on  the  lawn, 
The  thrushes  piping  sweetly  at  the  dawn, 
The  gently  splashing  waters  by  the  weir, 
The  rose-  and  lilac-laden  atmosphere  ' — 

"  because,  after  all,  it's  nothing  but  a 
catalogue  of  the  specialties  of  May  ;  but 
how  the  dickens  to  wind  the  thing  up  is 
what  puzzles  me.  It's  too  beautiful  and 
truly  poetic  to  be  spoiled  by  a  complet 
ing  couplet  like: 

"'And  in  the  distant  dam  the  croaking  frog 
Completes,  O  May,  thy  wondrous  catalogue.' 
32 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

"  Nobody  would  take  a  thing  like  that 
— and  pay  for  it ;  but  what  else  can  be 
said?  What  do  the  violets  wild,  the 
dandelion,  the  ruby-breasted  robin,  and 
the  lilac-laden  atmosphere  and  other 
features  all  do,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  What 
one  of  many  verbs— oh,  tut!  Poetry 
very  evidently  is  not  in  my  line,  after 
all.  I'll  turn  the  vials  of  my  vocabulary 
upon  essay-writing." 

Which  Partington,  as  his  friends  called 
him,  proceeded  at  once  to  do.  He  ap 
plied  himself  closely  to  his  desk  for  one 
whole  morning,  and  wrote  a  very  long 
paper  on  "  The  Tendency  of  the  Middle 
Ages  Towards  Artificialism."  Hardly 
one  of  the  fifteen  thousand  words  em 
ployed  by  him  in  the  construction  of 
this  paper  held  fewer  than  five  syllables, 
and  one  or  two  of  them  got  up  as  high 
as  ten,  a  fact  which  led  Partington  to 
think  that  the  editor  of  the  South  Ameri 
can  Quarterly  Review  ought  at  least  to 
have  the  refusal  of  it.  Apparently  the 
editor  of  the  South  American  Quarterly 
Review  was  only  too  eager  to  have 
the  refusal  of  it,  because  he  refused 
it,  or  so  Partington  observed  in  con 
fidence  to  an  acquaintance,  in  less 
C  33 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

time  than  it  could  possibly  have  taken 
him  to  read  it.  After  that  the  essay 
became  emulous  of  men  like  Stanley 
and  Joe  Cook.  It  became  a  great  trav 
eller,  but  never  failed  to  get  back  in 
safety  to  its  fond  parent,  Richard  Part- 
ington  Smithers,  as  our  hero  now  called 
himself.  Finally,  Partington  did  manage 
to  realize  something  on  his  essay — that 
is  to  say,  indirectly — for  after  "  The 
Tendency  of  the  Middle  Ages  Towards 
Artificialism  "  had  gone  the  rounds  of 
all  the  reviews,  monthlies,  dailies,  and 
weeklies  in  the  country,  its  author 
pigeon-holed  it,  and,  stringing  together 
the  printed  slips  it  had  brought  back  to 
him  upon  the  various  occasions  of  its 
return,  he  sent  these  under  the  head  of 
"How  Editors  Reject"  to  an  evening 
journal  in  Boston,  whose  readers  could 
know  nothing  of  the  subject,  for  reasons 
that  are  familiar  to  those  who  are  ac 
quainted  with  American  letters.  For 
this  he  not  only  received  the  editor's 
thanks,  but  a  six  months'  subscription 
to  the  journal  in  question — the  latter  of 
which  was  useful,  since  every  night,  ex 
cluding  Sundays,  its  columns  contained 
much  valuable  information  on  such  sub- 
34 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

jects  as  "  How  to  Live  on  Fifty  Dollars 
a  Year,"  "  How  to  Knit  an  Afghan  with 
One  Needle,"  and  "  How  Not  to  Become 
a  Novelist." 

Discouraged  by  the  fate  of  his  essay, 
Partington  endeavored  to  get  a  position 
on  a  railway  somewhere  as  a  conductor 
or  brakeman  ;  but  failing  in  this,  he  re 
turned  once  more  to  his  writing-table 
and  wrote  a  novel.  This  was  the  hard 
est  work  he  had  ever  attempted.  It 
took  him  quite  a  week  to  think  his  story 
out  and  put  it  together ;  but  when  he 
had  it  done  he  was  glad  he  had  stuck 
conscientiously  to  it,  for  the  results 
really  seemed  good  to  him.  The  book 
was  charmingly  written,  he  thought;  so 
charming,  in  fact,  that  he  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  have  a  type-written  copy 
made  of  it  before  sending  it  out  to  the 
publishers.  Possibly  this  was  a  mistake. 
For  a  time  Partington  really  believed  it 
was  a  mistake,  because  the  publisher 
who  saw  it  first  returned  it  without  com 
ment,  prejudicecf  against  It,  no  doubt,  by 
the  fact  that  it  came  to  him  in  the  au 
thor's  autograph.  The  second  publisher 
was  not  so  rude.  He  said  he  would 
print  it  if  Partington  would  advance  one 
35 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

thousand  dollars  to  protect  him  against 
loss.  The  third  publisher  evidently 
thought  better  of  the  book,  for  he  only 
demanded  protection  to  the  amount  of 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  which, 
of  course,  Partington  could  not  pay ; 
and  in  consequence  False  but  Fair  never 
saw  the  light  of  day  as  a  published 
book. 

"  Is  it  rejected  because  of  its  length, 
its  breadth,  or  what  ?"  he  had  asked  the 
last  publisher  who  had  turned  his  back 
on  the  book. 

"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr. 
Smithers,"  the  publisher  had  answered, 
"all  that  our  readers  had  to  say  about 
it — and  the  three  who  read  it  agreed 
unanimously — was  that  the  book  is  im 
mature.  You  do  not  write  like  an 
adult." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Partington,  as  he 
bowed  himself  out.  "  If  that's  the  truth, 
I'll  try  writing  for  juveniles.  I'll  sit 
right  down  to  -  night  and  knock  off  a 
short  story  about  *  Tommy  and  the 
Huckleberry-tree.'  I  don't  know  whether 
huckleberries  grow  on  trees  or  on  huck- 
les,  but  that  will  make  the  tale  all  the 
more  interesting.  If  they  don't  grow  on 
36 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

trees  people  will  regard  the  story  as  ro 
mance.  If  they  do  grow  on  trees  it  will 
be  realism." 

True  to  his  promise,  that  night  Part- 
ington  did  write  a  story,  and  it  was,  as 
he  had  said  it  should  be,  about  "  Tom 
my  and  the  Huckleberry-tree";  and  so 
amusing  did  it  appear  to  the  editor  of 
that  eminent  juvenile  periodical,  Nursery 
Days,  because  of  what  he  supposed  was 
the  author's  studied  ignorance  on  the 
subject  of  huckleberries,  that  it  was  ac 
cepted  instanter,  and  the  name  of  Richard 
Partington  Smithers  shortly  appeared  in 
all  the  glory  of  type. 

Partington  walked  on  air  for  at  least 
a  week  after  his  effusion  appeared  in 
print.  He  had  visions  night  and  day 
in  which  he  seemed  to  see  himself  the 
centre  of  the  literary  circle,  and  as  he 
promenaded  the  avenue  in  the  after 
noons  he  felt  almost  inclined  to  stop 
people  who  passed  him  by  to  tell  them 
who  he  was,  and  thus  enable  them  to 
feast  their  eyes  on  one  whose  name 
would  shortly  become  a  household  word. 
All  reasonable  young  authors  feel  this 
way  after  their  first  draught  at  the  soul- 
satisfying  spring  of  publicity.  It  is  only 
37 


THE   PLOT   THAT   FAILED 

that  preposterous  young  person  who 
was  born  tired  who  fails  to  experience 
the  sensations  that  were  Partington's 
that  week  ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  week, 
again  like  the  reasonable  young  author, 
he  began  to  realize  that  immortality 
could  not  be  gained  by  one  story  treat 
ing  of  a  fictitious  Tommy  and  an 
imaginary  huckleberry-tree,  and  so  he 
sat  himself  down  at  his  desk  once 
more,  resolved  this  time  to  clinch  him 
self,  as  it  were,  in  the  public  mind,  with 
a  tale  of  "  Jimmie  and  the  Strawberry- 
mine."  This  story  did  not  come  as 
easily  as  the  other.  In  fact,  Partington 
found  it  impossible  to  write  more  than 
a  third  of  the  second  tale  that  night. 
He  couldn't  bring  his  mind  down  to  it 
exactly,  probably  because  his  mind  had 
been  soaring  so  high  since  the  publica 
tion  of  his  first  effusion.  For  diversion 
as  much  as  for  anything  else  during  a 
lull  in  his  flow  of  language  he  penned 
a  short  letter  to  the  editor  of  Nursery 
Days,  and  announced  his  intention  to 
send  the  story  of  "Jimmie  and  the 
Strawberry  -  mine  "  to  him  shortly  — - 
which  was  unfortunate.  If  he  had  fin 
ished  the  story  first  and  then  sent  it,  it 
38 


THE   PLOT   THAT   FAILED 

might  have  been  good  enough  to  con 
vince  the  editor  against  his  judgment 
that  he  ought  to  have  it.  A  concrete 
story  can  often  accomplish  more  than 
an  abstract  idea.  In  this  event  it  could 
not  have  accomplished  less,  anyhow,  for 
the  editor  promptly  replied  that  he  did 
not  care  for  a  second  story  of  that  nat 
ure.  There  was  no  particular  evidence 
in  hand,  he  said,  that  the  children  liked 
stories  of  that  kind  particularly,  adding 
that  the  first  was  only  an  experiment 
that  it  was  not  necessary  to  repeat,  and 
so  on  ;  polite,  but  unmistakably  valedic 
tory. 

"  No  evidence  in  hand  that  they  are 
liked,  eh  ?  Well,  how  on  earth,  I  won 
der,"  Partington  said,  angrily,  to  him 
self,  "do  they  ever  find  evidence  that 
things  are  liked  ?  Do  they  go  about 
asking  subscribers,  or  what  ?" 

And  then  he  picked  up  the  issue  of 
Nursery  Days  that  had  started  him  along 
on  his  way  to  immortality,  to  console 
himself,  at  all  events,  with  the  sight  of 
his  published  story.  In  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  the  periodical  his  eye  fell  upon 
a  page  across  the  top  of  which  ran  a 
highly  ornate  cut  which  indicated  that 
39 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

there  was  printed  the  "  Post-office  De 
partment  of  Nursery  Days"  on  perusing 
which  Partington  found  a  number  of 
communications  and  editorial  responses 
like  these: 

I. 

"DEAR  POSTMASTER, — I  have  been  taking  Nur 
sery  Days  since  Christmas,  so  I  thought  I  would 
write  you  a  letter.  My  birthday  came  a  week 
ago  Thursday.  I  received  a  watch  and  chain, 
a  glove-buttoner,  a  penknife,  and  a  set  of  ivory 
jackstraws.  We  have  a  cat  at  home  whose 
name  is  Rumpelstiltzken.  He  is  very  sleepy, 
and  sleeps  all  day.  He  always  picks  out  the 
most  comfortable  chair,  and  then  feels  very 
much  injured  if  we  turn  him  out.  I  like  Boli 
var  Wiggins's  story  in  your  last  paper  very 
much.  Are  you  going  to  have  any  more  stories 
by  Bolivar  Wiggins? 

"Your  little  friend, 
"  HELEN  CHECKERBY,  aged  seven. 

"  [We  hope  soon  to  have  a  new  story  from  Mr. 
Wiggins,  Helen.  We  wish  we  could  see  your 
cat.  He  seems  a  very  sensible  cat. — EDITOR 
Nursery  Days^ 

II. 

"CANADA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nearly  ten  years  old,  and 
as  I  like  your  paper  very  much  I  thought  you 
would  like  a  letter  from  me.  Here  is  a  cow's 
bead  I  drew.  It  is  not  very  good,  but  I  wanted 
to  see  if  I  would  get  a  prize  or  not.  I  have  two 
little  sisters  ;  their  names  are  Jennie  and  Fanny. 
40 


THE   PLOT   THAT   FAILED 

I  hope  I  will  see  my  letter  in  print.  The  stories 
I  like  best  are  Bolivar  Wiggins's  story  about 
4  Solemn  Sophy'  and  his  other  one  about 
'Bertie's  Balloon.'  Have  you  any  more  stories 
by  him  ?  I  must  close  now,  so  good-bye. 

"LILLIAN  JAMES. 

"  [Several,  Lillian.  Your  cow  is  beautiful,  and 
perhaps  some  day  it  will  appear  in  this  column. 
Watch  carefully,  and  maybe  you  will  see  it. — 
EDITOR  Nursery  Days.]  " 

• 

"Ah!"  said  Partington,  softly,  as  he 
read  these  effusions.  "  That  is  why  Boli 
var  Wiggins  is  permitted  to  cover  so 
much  space,  eh  ?  The  children  like  his 
stories  well  enough  to  write  letters  about 
him — or  perhaps  Bolivar  himself — ah!" 

The  second  "ah"  uttered  by  Parting- 
ton  indicated  that  a  thought  had  flashed 
across  his  mind — a  thought  not  particu 
larly  complimentary  to  Bolivar  Wiggins. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  Bolivar 
writes  these  letters  to  the  editor  himself 
— and  if  Bolivar,  why  not  I  ?" 

It  was  a  tempting — alas,  too  tempting 
— opportunity  to  supply  the  editor  of 
Nursery  Days  with  the  needed  evidence 
that  stories  of  the  "Tommy  and  the 
Huckleberry-tree"  order  were  the  most 
popular  literary  novelty  of  the  day,  and 
4i 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

to  it,  in  a  moment  of  weakness,  Parting- 
ton  succumbed.  I  regret  to  have  to 
record  the  fact  that  he  passed  the  bal 
ance  of  the  night  writing  letters  from 
fictitious  "Sallies,  aged  six,"  "Warry 
and  Georgie,  twins,  aged  twelve,"  and 
others  dwelling  in  widely  separated  sec 
tions  of  the  country,  to  the  number  of 
at  least  two  dozen,  all  of  which,  being 
an  expert  penman,  Partington  wrote  in 
a  diversity  of  juvenile  hands  that  was 
worthy  of  a  better  cause.  Here  are 
two  samples  of  the  letters  he  wrote  that 
night : 

I. 

"  NORWICH,  CONNECTICUT. 
"  I  have  taken  the  Nursery  Days  for  one  year, 
and  think  it  is  a  very  nice  paper.  For  pets  I 
have  two  cats,  named  Lady  Tompkins  and 
Jimpsey.  I  have  tried  to  solve  the  '  Caramel 
Puzzle,'  but  think  one  answer  is  wrong.  I  go 
to  school,  and  there  are  forty-four  scholars  in 
my  room.  My  little  kitty  Jimpsey  sleeps  all  day 
long,  and  at  night  she  is  playful.  She  wakes 
me  up  in  the  morning,  and  then  waits  till  I  get 
up.  Who  is  Mr.  Smithers  who  wrote  that  beauti 
ful  story  about  'Tommy  and  the  Huckleberry- 
tree'?  Everybody  of  all  ages,  from  baby  to  my 
grandmother,  likes  it  and  hopes  you  will  print 
more  by  that  author. 

"SARAH  WINKLETOP." 
42 


THE   PLOT   THAT   FAILED 
II. 

"YONKERS,   N.  Y. 

"  Our  Uncle  Willie  in  New  York  sends  us  Nur 
sery  Days  every  week.  We  like  it  immensely, 
and  every  one  tries  to  get  the  first  reading  of  it. 
"Tommy  and  the  Huckleberry-tree"  is  a  splen 
did  story.  Papa  bought  six  copies  of  Nursery 
Days  with  that  in  it  to  send  to  my  little  cousins 
in  England.  JIMMIE  CONWAY  RHODES." 

Others  were  more  laudatory  of  Part- 
ington's  story,  some  less  so,  but  each 
demanded  more  of  his  work. 

These  written,  Partington  made  ar 
rangements  to  have  them  posted  from 
the  various  towns  wherein  they  were 
ostensibly  written,  and  then,  when  they 
had  been  posted,  he  chuckled  slightly 
and  sat  down  to  await  developments. 

It  took  a  trifle  over  one  week  for  de 
velopments  to  develop,  and  then  they 
developed  rapidly.  Just  eight  days  after 
his  conception  of  this  magnificent  scheme 
the  postman  whistled  at  Partington's  door 
and  left  this  note: 

"  OFFICE  OF  NURSERY  DAYS,  ) 
"  NEW  YORK,  March  16,  1889.    \ 
"  Richard  Partington  Smithers^  Esq.: 

"DEAR  SIR, — Can  you  call  upon  me  some 
afternoon  this  week  ?  Yours  truly, 

"THOMAS  JACKSON  TORPYHUE, 

"  Editor  Nursery  Days." 
43 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

"The  bait  is  good,  and  I'll  land  the 
fish  at  once,"  said  Partington,  his  face 
wreathing  with  smiles.  "  I'll  call  upon 
Mr.  Thomas  Jackson  Torpyhue." 

And  call  he  did.  Two  hours  later  he 
entered  the  sanctum  of  the  editor  of 
Nursery  Days. 

"  Good-afternoon,"  he  said,  as  he  sat 
down  at  the  editor's  side. 

"  Good-afternoon,  Mr.  Smithers,"  said 
Mr.  Torpyhue.  "  I'm  very  glad  to  see 
you." 

"  I  thought  you'd  be,"  began  Parting- 
ton,  forgetting  himself  for  a  moment  in 
his  triumph.  "  If  that  wasn't  evidence 
enough  that  I — ah — oh — er — ah!  Ahem! 
Why,  certainly,"  he  continued,  suddenly 
recalling  the  fact  that  as  yet  he  could 
properly  have  no  knowledge  of  the  evi 
dence  in  question. 

The  editor  threw  his  head  back  and 
laughed,  and  Partington  forced  himself 
to  join  him,  nervously  withal. 

"  You  have  heard  of  the  evidence  have 
you?"  asked  Mr.  Torpyhue. 

Partington  gasped  faintly,  and  said  he 
thought  not. 

"  Well,  it's  very  strange,  Mr.  Smithers," 
said  Mr.  Torpyhue,  "but  do  you  know 
44 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

that  you  have  developed  into  one  of  our 
most  popular  authors?" 

"Indeed?"  queried  Paftington,  pull 
ing  himself  together  and  trying  to  ap 
pear  gratified. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Here  is  a  bundle  of  twenty- 
four  letters  all  received  within  three 
days.  One  of  the  letters  calls  you  the 
best  writer  of  short  stories  of  the  day. 
Another,  from  Canada,  written  by  a 
parent,  says  that  you  have  written  one 
of  the  most  delightful  bits  of  juve 
nile  humor  that  he  has  seen  in  forty 
years." 

"  How  extremely  flattering!"  said  Part- 
ington,  faintly. 

"Yes,  extremely,"  assented  the  editor, 
dryly.  "  And  now,  Mr.  Smithers,  I'm 
going  to  do  for  you  what  this  paper  has 
never  done  even  to  its  most  popular  au 
thor  in  the  past." 

"  Now,  my  dear  Mr.  Torpyhue,"  began 
Partington,  gaining  courage,  "  I  beg  you 
not  to  feel  called  upon  to  discriminate 
against  your  old  favorites  in  my  favor. 
Your  present  rates  of  payment  are  en 
tirely  satisfac — " 

"You  misunderstand  me,  Mr.  Smith 
ers,"  interrupted  Mr.  Torpyhue.  "  What 
45 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

I'm  going  to  do  to  you  that  I  never  before 
have  done  even  to  our  most  popular  au 
thor  is  to  return  to  you  at  once  every  one 
of  those  highly  entertaining  manuscripts 
you  have  favored  us  with — we  receive  so 
many  real  letters  from  real  children  that, 
of  course,  we  cannot  afford  to  buy  from 
you  purely  fictitious  ones.  These  of 
yours  are  excellently  well  done,  but  you 
see  my  point.  One  does  not  pay  for 
things  that  can  be  had  gratis.  Perhaps 
later  you  will  try  us  with  something  else," 
he  added,  with  a  grin. 

Here  Mr.  Torpyhue  paused,  and  Part- 
ington  tried  to  think  of  something  to 
say.  It  was  all  so  sudden,  however,  and, 
in  spite  of  his  misgivings,  so  extremely 
unexpected,  that  his  breath  was  taken 
away.  He  had  neither  breath  nor  pres 
ence  of  mind  enough  left  even  to  deny  the 
allegation,  and  when  he  did  recover  his 
breath  he  found  himself  walking  deject 
edly  down  the  stairs  of  the  Nursery  Days 
building  with  his  bundle  of  encomia  in 
his  hands. 

"  I  wonder  how  he  caught  on!"  he 
groaned,  as  half  an  hour  later  he  entered 
his  room  and  threw  himself  face  down 
ward  on  his  couch. 

46 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

Investigation  after  dinner  gave  him  a 
clue. 

Not  one  of  the  letters  had  been  mailed 
from  the  town  in  which  it  had  been 
dated.  The  envelope  containing  the 
Washington  letter  bore  the  Boston  post 
mark.  The  Brooklyn  missive  had  been 
sent  from  Chicago,  that  from  Norwich  had 
been  posted  at  Yonkers,  and  vice  versa, 
and  so  on  through  the  whole  list.  Each 
and  every  one  had,  through  some  evil 
chance,  started  wrong.  In  addition  to 
this,  Partington  found  that  in  a  forget 
ful  moment  he  had  appended  to  two  of 
the  communications  an  editorial  re 
sponse  promising  more  work  from  Mr. 
Smithers. 

"I  must  have  been  muddled  by  my 
success  with  *  Tommy  and  the  Huckle 
berry-tree,'  "  he  sighed,  as  he  cast  the 
documents  into  the  fire.  "  If  that's  the 
effect  literary  honors  have  on  me  I'd 
better  quit  the  profession,  which  leaves 
only  two  things  to  be  done.  I  shall 
have  to  commit  one  of  two  crimes — sui 
cide  or  matrimony.  The  question  now 
is,  which  ?" 

He  thought  deeply  for  a  moment, 
and  then,  putting  on  his  hat  and  over- 
47 


THE   PLOT  THAT   FAILED 

coat,  he  turned  off  the  gas  and  left  the 
room. 

"I'll  call  on  Harris,  borrow  a  cent 
from  him,  and  let  the  toss  decide,"  he 
said,  as  he  passed  out  into  the  night. 

Is  it  really  any  wonder  that  Mr. 
Smithers  has  given  up  literature  ? 


THE    BASE    INGRATITUDE    OF 
BARKIS,  M.D. 

THE  time  has  arrived  when  it  is  pos 
sibly  proper  that  I  should  make  a  note 
of  the  base  ingratitude  of  Barkis,  M.D. 
I  have  hesitated  to  do  this  hitherto  for 
several  reasons,  any  one  of  which  would 
prove  a  valid  excuse  for  my  not  doing 
so.  To  begin  with,  I  have  known  Barkis 
ever  since  he  was  a  baby.  I  have  tossed 
him  in  the  air,  to  his  own  delight  and  to 
the  consternation  of  his  mother,  who 
feared  lest  I  should  fail  to  catch  him  on 
his  way  down,  or  that  I  should  under 
estimate  the  distance  between  the  top  of 
his  head  and  the  ceiling  on  his  way  up. 
Later  I  have  held  him  on  my  knee  and 
told  him  stories  of  an  elevating  nature — 
mostly  of  my  own  composition — and 
have  afterwards  put  these  down  upon 
paper  and  sold  them  to  syndicates  at 
great  profit.  So  that,  in  a  sense,  I  am 
D  49 


BASE   INGRATITUDE  OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

beholden  to  Barkis  for  some  measure  of 
my  prosperity.  Then,  when  Barkis  grew 
older,  I  taught  him  the  most  approved 
methods  of  burning  his  fingers  on  the 
Fourth  of  July,  and  when  he  went  to 
college  I  am  convinced  that  he  gained 
material  aid  from  me  in  that  I  loaned 
him  my  college  scrap-books,  which  con 
tained,  among  other  things,  a  large  num 
ber  of  examination  papers  which  I  mar 
vel  greatly  to-day  that  I  was  ever  able  suc 
cessfully  to  pass,  and  which  gave  to  him 
some  hint  as  to  the  ordeal  he  was  about 
to  go  through.  In  his  younger  profes 
sional  days,  also,  I  have  been  Barkis's 
friend,  and  have  called  him  up,  to  minis 
ter  to  a  pain  I  never  had,  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  simply  because  I  had 
reason  to  believe  that  he  needed  four  or 
five  dollars  to  carry  him  through  the 
ensuing  hours  of  the  day. 

Quotation  books  have  told  us  that  in 
love,  as  well  as  in  war,  all  is  fair,  and  if 
this  be  true  Barkis's  ingratitude,  the 
narration  of  which  cannot  now  give 
pain  to  any  one,  becomes,  after  all, 
nothing  more  than  a  venial  offence.  I 
do  not  place  much  reliance  upon  the 
5° 


BASE   INGRATITUDE  OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

ethics  of  quotation  books  generally,  but 
when  I  remember  my  own  young  days, 
and  the  things  I  did  to  discredit  the 
other  fellow  in  that  little  affair  which 
has  brought  so  much  happiness  into 
my  own  life,  I  am  inclined  to  nail  my 
flag  to  the  masthead  in  defence  of  the 
principle  that  lovers  can  do  no  wrong. 
It  is  no  ordinary  stake  that  a  lover  plays 
for,  and  if  he  stacks  the  cards,  and  in 
other  ways  turns  his  back  upon  the  guid 
ing  principles  of  his  life,  blameworthy  as 
he  may  be,  I  shall  not  blame  him,  but 
shall  incline  rather  towards  applause. 

On  the  other  hand,  something  is  due 
to  the  young  ladies  in  the  case,  and  as 
much  for  their  sake  as  for  any  other 
reason  have  I  set  upon  paper  this  narra 
tive  of  the  man's  ingratitude,  simply  tell 
ing  the  story  and  drawing  no  conclusions 
whatever. 

Barkis  was  not  endowed  with  much  in 
the  way  of  worldly  possessions.  His 
father  had  died  when  the  lad  was  very 
young,  and  had  left  the  boy  and  his 
mother  to  struggle  on  alone.  But  there 
was  that  in  both  of  them  which  enabled 
the  mother  to  feel  that  the  boy  was  worth 
struggling  for,  and  the  boy  at  a  very 


BASE  INGRATITUDE  OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

early  age  to  realize  the  difficulties  of  the 
struggle,  and  to  like  the  difficulties  be 
cause  they  afforded  him  an  opportunity  to 
help  his  mother  either  by  not  giving  her 
unnecessary  trouble  or  in  bringing  to 
her  efforts  in  their  mutual  behalf  aid  of 
a  very  positive  kind. 

Boys  of  this  kind — and  in  saying  this 
I  cast  no  reflections  whatsoever  upon 
that  edifying  race  of  living  creatures 
whom  I  admire  and  respect  more  than 
any  other — are  so  rare  that  it  did  not 
take  the  neighbors  of  the  Barkis  family 
many  days  to  discover  that  the  little 
chap  was  worth  watching,  and  if  need 
be  caring  for  in  a  way  which  should 
prove  substantial.  There  are  so  many 
ways,  too,  in  which  one  may  help  a  boy 
without  impairing  his  self-reliance  that 
on  the  whole  it  was  not  very  difficult  to 
assist  Barkis.  So  when  one  of  his  neigh 
bors  employed  him  in  his  office  at  a 
salary  of  eight  dollars  a  week,  when 
other  boys  received  only  four  for  similar 
service,  the  lad,  instead  of  feeling  him 
self  favored,  assumed  an  obligation  and 
made  himself  worth  five  times  as  much 
as  the  other  boys,  so  that  really  his  em- 
52 


BASE   INGRATITUDE   OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

ployer,  and  not  he,  belonged  to  the  debt 
or  class. 

Some  said  it  was  a  pity  that  little 
Barkis  wasted  his  talents  in  a  real  estate 
office,  but  they  were  the  people  who 
didn't  know  him.  He  expended  his 
nervous  energy  in  the  real  estate  office, 
but  his  mind  he  managed  to  keep  free 
for  the  night  school,  and  when  it  came 
to  the  ultimate  it  was  found  that  little 
Barkis  had  wasted  nothing.  He  entered 
college  when  several  other  boys — who 
had  not  served  in  a  real  estate  office,  who 
had  received  diplomas  from  the  high- 
school,  and  who  had  played  while  he 
had  studied — failed. 

That  his  college  days  were  a  trial  to 
his  mother  every  one  knew.  She  wished 
him  to  keep  his  end  up,  and  he  did — and 
without  spending  all  that  his  mother 
sent  him,  either.  The  great  trouble  was 
that  at  the  end  of  his  college  course  it 
was  understood  that  Barkis  intended 
studying  medicine.  When  that  crept  out 
the  neighbors  sighed.  They  deprecated 
the  resolve  among  themselves,  but  ap 
plauded  the  boy's  intention  to  his  face. 

"  Good  for  you,  Jack  !"  said  one.   "  You 
53 


BASE   INGRATITUDE   OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

are  just  the  man  for  a  doctor,  and  I'll 
give  you  all  my  business." 

This  man,  of  course,  was  a  humorist. 

Another  said:  "  Jack,  you  are  perfectly 
right.  Real  estate  and  coal  are  not  for 
yon.  Go  in  for  medicine  ;  when  my  leg 
is  cut  off  you  shall  do  the  cutting." 

To  avoid  details,  however,  some  of 
which  would  make  a  story  in  them 
selves,  Jack  Barkis  went  through  college, 
studied  medicine,  received  his  diploma 
as  a  full-fledged  M.D.,  and  settled  down 
at  Dumfries  Corners  for  practice.  And 
practice  did  not  come!  And  income 
was  not. 

It  was  plainly  visible  to  the  community 
that  Barkis  was  hard  up,  as  the  saying 
is,  and  daily  growing  more  so.  To  make 
matters  worse,  it  was  now  impossible  to 
help  him  as  the  boy  had  been  helped. 
He  was  no  longer  a  child,  but  a  man  ; 
and  the  pleasing  little  subterfuges,  which 
we  had  employed  to  induce  the  boy  to 
think  he  was  making  his  way  on  his  o\vn 
sturdy  little  legs,  with  the  man  were  out 
of  the  question.  His  clothing  grew 
threadbare,  and  there  were  stories  of  in 
sufficient  nourishment.  As  time  went  on 
the  outward  and  visible  signs  of  his 
54 


BASE   INGRATITUDE   OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

poverty  increased,  yet  no  one  could  de 
vise  any  plan  to  help  him. 

And  then  came  a  solution,  and  inas 
much  as  it  was  brought  about  by  the 
S.  F.  M.  E.,  an  association  of  a  dozen 
charming  young  women  in  the  city  form 
ing  the  Society  for  Mutual  Encourage 
ment,  or  Enjoyment,  or  Endorsement, 
or  something  else  beginning  with  E — I 
never  could  ascertain  definitely  what  the 
E  stood  for — it  would  seem  as  if  the 
young  ladies  should  have  received  greater 
consideration  than  they  did  when  pros 
perity  knocked  at  the  Doctor's  door. 

It  seems  that  the  Doctor  attended  a 
dance  one  evening  in  a  dress  coat,  the 
quality  ajid  lack  of  quantity  of  which 
were  a  flagrant  indication  of  a  sparse,  not 
to  say  extremely  needy,  wardrobe.  All 
his  charm  of  manner,  his  grace  in  the 
dance,  his  popularity,  could  not  blind 
others  to  the  fact  that  he  was  ill-dressed, 
and  the  girls  decided  that  something 
must  be  done,  and  at  once. 

"  We  might  give  a  lawn  fete  for  his 
benefit,"  one  of  them  suggested. 

"  He  isn't  achurch  or  a  Sunday-school," 
Miss  Daisy  Peters  retorted.  "  Besides,  I 
know  Jack  Barkis  well  enough  to  know 
55 


BASE    INGRATITUDE   OF    BARKIS,  M.D. 

that  he  would  never  accept  charity  from 
any  one.  We've  got  to  help  him  profes 
sionally." 

"  We  might  boycott  all  the  fellows  at 
dances,"  suggested  Miss  Wilbur,  "  unless 
they  will  patronize  the  Doctor.  Decline 
to  dance  with  them  unless  they  present 
a  certificate  from  Jack  proving  that  they 
are  his  patients." 

"  Humph  !"  said  Miss  Peters.  "  That 
wouldn't  do  any  good.  They  are  all 
healthy,  and  even  if  they  did  go  to  Jack 
for  a  prescription  the  chances  are  they 
wouldn't  pay  him.  They  haven't  much 
more  money  than  he  has." 

"I  am  afraid  that  is  true,"  assented 
Miss  Wilbur.  "  Indeed,  if  they  have  any 
at  all,  I  can't  say  that  they  have  given 
much  sign  of  it  this  winter.  The  Bachel 
ors'  Cotillon  fell  through  for  lack  of 
interest,  they  said,  but  I  have  my  doubts 
on  that  score.  It's  my  private  opinion 
they  weren't  willing  or  able  to  pay  for 
it." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  we 
can  do  to  help  Jack.  If  he  had  our  com 
bined  pocket-money  he'd  still  be  poor," 
sighed  Miss  Peters. 

"He  couldn't  be  induced  to  take  it 
56 


BASE    INGRATITUDE   OF    BARKIS,  M.D. 

unless  he  earned  it,"  said  little  Betsy 
Barbett.  "  You  all  know  that." 

"  Hurrah  !"  cried  Miss  Peters,  clapping 
her  hands  ecstatically  ;  "  I  have  it !  I  have 
it !  I  have  it !  We'll  put  him  in  the  way 
of  earning  it." 

And  they  all  put  their  heads  together, 
and  the  following  was  the  result : 

The  next  day  Jack  Barkis's  telephone 
rang  more  often  in  an  hour  than  it  had 
ever  done  before  in  a  month,  and  every 
ring  meant  a  call. 

The  first  call  was  from  Miss  Daisy 
Peters,  and  he  responded. 

"  I'm  so  sorry  to  send  for  you — er — 
Doctor,"  she  said— she  had  always  called 
him  Jack  before,  but  now  he  had  come 
professionally — "  for — for — Rover,  but 
the  poor  dog  is  awfully  sick  to-day,  and 
Doctor  Pruyn  was  out  of  town.  Do  you 
mind  ?" 

"Certainly  not,  Daisy,"  he  replied,  a 
shade  of  disappointment  on  his  face.  I 
am  inclined  to  believe  he  had  hoped  to 
find  old  Mr.  Peters  at  death's  door.  "  If 
the  dog  is  sick  I  can  help  him.  What 
are  his  symptoms  ?" 

And  Miss  Peters  went  on  to  say  that 
her  cherished  Rover,  she  thought,  had 
57 


BASE   INGRATITUDE  OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

malaria.  He  was  tired  and  lazy,  when 
usually  he  rivalled  the  cow  that  jumped 
over  the  moon  in  activity.  She  neglected 
to  say  that  she  had  with  her  own  fair 
hands  given  the  poor  beast  a  dose  of 
sulphonal  the  night  before — not  enough 
to  hurt  him,  but  sufficient  to  make  him 
appear  tired  and  sleepy. 

"I  must  see  my  patient,"  said  the 
Doctor,  cheerfully.  "  Will  he  come  if  I 
whistle  ?" 

Miss  Peters  was  disinclined  to  accede 
to  this  demand.  She  was  beginning  to 
grow  fearful  that  Jack  would  see  through 
her  little  subterfuge,  and  that  the  efforts 
of  the  S.  F.  M.  E.  would  prove  fruit 
less. 

"  Oh,"  she  demurred,  "  is  that — er — 
necessary  ?  Rover  isn't  a  child,  you 
know.  He  won't  stick  out  his  tongue  if 
you  tell  him  to — and,  er — I  don't  think 
you  could  tell  much  from  his  pulse — 
and—" 

"  I'd  better  see  him,  though,"  observed 
Jack,  quietly.  "I  certainly  can't  pre 
scribe  unless  I  do." 

So  Rover  was  brought  out,  and  it  was 
indeed  true  that  his  old-time  activity  had 
been  superseded  by  a  lethargy  which 
58 


BASE   INGRATITUDE   OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

made  the  wagging  of  his  tail  a  positive 
effort.  Still,  Doctor  Barkis  was  equal  to 
the  occasion,  prescribed  for  the  dog, 
and  on  his  books  that  night  wrote  down 
a  modest  item  as  against  Mr.  Billington 
Peters  and  to  his  own  financial  credit. 
Furthermore,  he  had  promised  to  call 
again  the  next  day,  which  meant  more 
practice. 

On  his  return  home  he  found  a  hurry 
call  awaiting  him.  Miss  Betsy  Barbett 
had  dislocated  her  wrist.  So  to  the 
Barbett  mansion  sped  Doctor  Barkis, 
and  there,  sure  enough,  was  Miss  Bar 
bett  apparently  suffering  greatly. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come," 
she  moaned.  "  It  hurts  dreadfully,  Jack — 
I  mean  Doctor." 

"  I'll  fix  that  in  a  second,"  said  he,  and 
he  did,  although  he  thought  it  odd  that 
there  were  no  signs  of  any  inflammation. 
He  was  not  aware  that  one  of  the  most 
cherished  and  fascinating  accomplish 
ments  of  Miss  Barbett  during  her  child 
hood  had  been  her  ability  to  throw  her 
wrist  out  of  joint.  She  could  throw  any 
of  her  joints  out  of  place,  but  she  proper 
ly  chose  her  wrist  upon  this  occasion  as 
being  the  better  joint  to  intrust  to  a 
59 


BASE   INGRATITUDE   OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

young  physician.  If  Jack  had  known 
that  until  his  coming  her  wrist  had  been 
all  right,  and  that  it  had  not  become  dis 
jointed  until  he  rang  the  front  door  bell 
of  the  Barbett  house,  he  might  not  have 
been  so  pleased  as  he  entered  the  item 
against  Judge  Barbett  in  his  book,  nor 
would  he  have  wondered  at  the  lack  of 
inflammation. 

So  it  went.  The  Hicks's  cook  was  sud 
denly  taken  ill — Mollie  Hicks  gave  her  a 
dollar  to  do  it — and  Jack  was  summoned. 
The  Tarletons'  coachman  was  kept  out 
on  a  wet  night  for  two  hours  by  Janette 
Tarleton,  and  very  properly  contracted  a 
cold,  for  which  the  young  woman  made 
herself  responsible,  and  Doctor  Barkis 
was  called  in.  Then  the  society  itself  dis 
covered  many  a  case  among  the  worthy 
poor  needing  immediate  medical  treat 
ment  from  Barkis,  M.D.,  and,  although 
Jack  wished  to  make  no  charge,  insisted 
that  he  should,  and  threatened  to  employ 
some  one  else  if  he  didn't. 

By  degrees  a  practice  resulted  from 
this  conspiracy  of  the  S.  F.  M.  E.,  and 
then  a  municipal  election  came  along, 
and  each  candidate  for  the  Mayoralty 
was  given  quietly  to  understand  by  par- 
60 


BASE   INGRATITUDE   OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

ties  representing  the  S.  F.  M.  E.,  that 
unless  Jack  Barkis  was  made  health 
officer  of  the  city  he'd  better  look  out 
for  himself,  and  while  both  candidates 
vowed  they  had  made  no  pledges,  each 
had  sworn  ten  days  before  election-day 
by  all  that  was  holy  that  Barkis  should 
have  this  eighteen-hundred-dollar  office 
— and  he  got  it !  Young  women  may  not 
vote,  but  they  have  influence  in  small 
cities. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  year  of  the 
S.  F.  M.  E.'s  resolve  that  Barkis  must  be 
cared  for  he  was  in  receipt  of  nearly 
twenty -eight  hundred  dollars  a  year, 
could  afford  a  gig,  and  so  command  a 
practice  ;  and  having  obtained  his  start, 
his  own  abilities  took  care  of  the  rest. 

And  then  what  did  Jack  Barkis,  M.D., 
do?  When  luxuries  began  to  manifest 
themselves  in  his  home — indeed,  when 
he  found  himself  able  to  rent  a  better 
one — whom  did  he  ask  to  share  its  joys 
with  him  ? 

Miss  Daisy  Peters,  who  had  dosed  her 
dog  that  he  might  profit  ?  No,  indeed  ! 

Miss  Betsy  Barbett,  who  disfigured 
her  fair  wrist  in  his  behalf  ?  Alas,  no  ! 

Miss  Hicks,  who  had  spent  a  dollar  to 
61 


BASE   INGRATITUDE  OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

bribe  a  cook  that  he  might  earn  two  ? 
No,  the  ungrateful  wretch  ! 

Any  member  of  the  S.  F.  M.  E.?  I 
regret  to  say  not. 

He  went  and  married  a  girl  from  Los 
Angeles,  whom  he  met  on  one  of  the 
summer  vacations  the  S.  F.  M.  E.  had 
put  within  his  reach — a  girl  from  whom 
no  portion  of  his  measure  of  prosperity 
had  come. 

Such  was  the  ingratitude  of  Barkis. 
They  have  never  told  me  so,  but  I  think 
the  S.  F.  M.  E.  feel  it  keenly.  Barkis  I 
believe  to  be  unconscious  of  it — but  then 
he  is  in  love  with  Mrs.  Barkis,  which  is 
proper  ;  and  as  I  have  already  indicated, 
when  a  man  is  in  love  there  are  a  great 
many  things  he  does  not  see — in  fact,  there 
is  only  one  thing  he  does  see,  and  that  is 
Her  Majesty,  the  Queen.  I  can't  blame 
Barkis,  and  even  though  I  was  aware  of 
the  conspiracy  to  make  him  prosperous, 
I  did  not  think  of  the  ungrateful  phase 
of  it  all  until  I  spoke  to  Miss  Peters  about 
his  fiancte,  who  had  visited  Dumfries 
Corners. 

"  Sne's  charming,"  said  I.  "  Don't  you 
think  so  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Miss  Peters,  dubiously. 
62 


BASE   INGRATITUDE   OF   BARKIS,  M.D. 

"But  I  don't  see  why  Jack  went  to  Los 
Angeles  for  a  wife." 

"  Ah  ?"  said  I.  "  Maybe  it  was  the  only 
place  where  he  could  find  one." 

"Thank  you!"  snapped  Miss  Peters. 
"  For  my  part,  I  think  the  Dumfries 
Corners  girls  are  quite  as  attractive — 
ah — Betsy  Barbett  for  instance — or  any 
other  girl  in  Jack's  circle." 

"Like  yourself?"    I  smiled. 

"  My  !"  she  cried.  "  How  can  you  say 
such  a  thing?" 

And  really  I  was  sorry  I  had  said  it. 
It  seemed  so  like  twitting  a  person  on 
facts,  when  I  came  to  think  about  it. 


THE  UTILITARIAN  MR.  CARRAWAY 

THE  Christmas  season  was  approach 
ing,  and  Mr.  Carraway,  who  had  lately 
become  something  of  a  philosopher, 
began  to  think  about  gifts  for  his  wife 
and  children.  The  more  he  thought  of 
them,  the  more  firmly  was  he  convinced 
that  there  was  something  radically  wrong 
with  the  system  of  giving  that  had  pre 
vailed  in  past  years.  He  conjured  up 
visions  of  the  useless  things  he  had 
given  and  received  on  previous  occa 
sions,  and  an  inventory  of  his  personal 
receipts  at  the  four  celebrations  leading 
up  to  the  present  disclosed  the  fact  that 
he  was  long  on  match-boxes,  cigar-cases, 
and  smoking-jackets,  the  last  every  one 
of  them  too  small,  with  an  appalling  sup 
ply  of  knitted  and  crocheted  objects,  the 
gifts  of  his  children,  in  reserve.  His 
boot-closet  was  a  perfect  revelation  of 
the  misdirected  Christmas  energies  of 
64 


THE   UTILITARIAN   MR.  CARRAWAY 

the  young,  disclosing,  as  it  always  did 
upon  occasions  when  he  was  in  a  great 
hurry,  a  half-dozen  pairs  of  worsted 
slippers,  which  he  had  received  at  Yule- 
tide,  some  of  them  adorned  with  stags 
of  beads  leaping  over  zephyr  walls,  and 
pthers  made  in  the  image  of  cats  of  ex 
traordinary  color,  with  yellow  glass  eyes 
let  in  directly  over  the  toe  whereon  he 
kept  his  favorite  corn.  I  am  not  sure 
that  it  was  not  the  stepping  of  an  awk 
ward  visitor  upon  one  of  these  same 
glass  eyes,  while  these  slippers  for  the 
first  time  covered  his  feet,  that  set  Mr. 
Carraway  to  cogitating  upon  the  hollow- 
ness  of  "  Christmas  as  She  is  Celebrated." 
Indeed,  it  is  my  impression  that  at  the 
very  moment  when  that  bit  of  adorn 
ment  was  pressed  down  upon  Mr.  Carra- 
way's  corn  he  announced  rather  forcibly 
his  disbelief  in  the  utility  of  any  such  in 
fernal  Christmas  present  as  that.  And  as 
time  went  on,  and  that  offending,  staring 
slipper  slipped  into  his  hand  every  time 
he  searched  the  closet  in  the  dark  for  a 
left  patent-leather  pump,  or  some  other 
missing  bit  of  foot-gear,  the  conviction 
grew  upon  him  that  of  the  great  reforms 
of  which  the  world  stood  in  crying  need 

E  65 


THE   UTILITARIAN   MR.  CARRAWAY 

the   reformation  of   the  Christmas  gift 
was  possibly  the  most  important. 

The  idea  grew  to  be  a  mania  with 
him,  and  he  gradually  developed  into  a 
utilitarian  of  the  most  pronounced  type. 
Nothing  in  the  world  so  suited  him  as  an 
object,  homely  or  otherwise,  that  could  be 
used  for  something  ;  the  things  that  were 
used  for  nothing  had  no  attractions  for 
him.  After  this  he  developed  further, 
and  discovered  new  uses  for  old  objects. 
Mrs.  Carraway's  parlor  vases  were  turned 
into  receptacles  for  matches,  or  papers, 
according  to  their  size.  The  huge  Sat- 
suma  vase  became  a  more  or  less  satis 
factory  bill-file  ;  and  the  cloisonne  jar,  by 
virtue  of  its  great  durability,  Mr.  Carra- 
way  used  as  a  receptacle  for  the  fam 
ily  golf-balls,  much  to  the  trepidation  of 
his  good  wife,  who  considered  that  the 
vase,  like  some  women,  had  in  its  beauty 
a  sufficient  cause  for  existence,  and  who 
would  have  preferred  going  without  golf 
forever  to  the  destruction  of  her  treas 
ured  bit  of  bric-a-brac. 

Mrs.  Carraway  did  her  best  to  stay  the 

steady  advance  in  utilitarianism  of  her 

husband.     She  could  bide  with  him  in 

most  matters.     In  fact,  until  it  came  to 

66 


THE   UTILITARIAN    MR.  CARRAWAY 

the  use  of  the  cloisonne  jar  for  a  golf- 
ball  reservoir,  she  considered  the  idea  at 
least  harmless,  and  was  forced  to  admit 
that  it  indeed  held  many  good  points. 

"I  think  it  is  perfectly  proper,"  she 
said,  "  to  consider  all  things  from  the 
point  of  view  of  their  utility.  I  do  not 
believe  in  sending  a  ball-dress  to  a  poor 
woman  who  is  starving  or  suffering  for 
want  of  coal,  but  I  must  say,  John,  that 
you  carry  your  theory  too  far  when  you 
insist  on  using  an  object  for  some  pur 
pose  for  which  it  was  manifestly  never 
intended." 

"But  who  is  to  say  what  a  thing  is 
manifestly  made  for?"  demanded  Carra- 
way.  "  You  don't  know,  or  at  least  you 
can't  say  positively,  what  one  of  many 
possible  uses  the  designer  and  maker  of 
any  object  had  in  mind  when  he  de 
signed  and  made  that  especial  object. 
This  particular  vase  was  fashioned  by  a 
heathen.  It  is  beautiful  and  graceful, 
but  beyond  producing  something  beauti 
ful  and  graceful,  how  can  you  say  what 
other  notion  that  heathen  had  as  to  its 
possible  usefulness  ?  He  may  have  made 
it  to  hold  flowers.  He  may  have  in 
tended  it  for  a  water-jug.  He  may  have 


THE   UTILITARIAN    MR.  CARRAWAY 

considered  it  a  suitable  receptacle  in 
which  its  future  favored  owner  might 
keep  his  tobacco,  or  his  opium,  or  any 
one  of  the  thousand  and  one  things  that 
you  can  put  in  a  vase  with  a  hope  of 
getting  it  out  again." 

"  Well,  we  know  he  didn't  intend  it  for 
golf-balls,  anyhow,"  said  Mrs.  Carraway. 
"  For  the  very  simple  reason  that  the 
heathen  don't  play  golf." 

"  They  may  play  some  kind  of  a  game 
which  is  a  heathen  variation  of  golf," 
observed  Mr.  Carraway,  coldly. 

"That  couldn't  be,"  persisted  Mrs. 
Carraway.  "Judging  from  the  effect  of 
Sunday  golf-playing  on  church  attend 
ance,  I  don't  think  anything  more  com 
pletely  pagan  than  golf  could  be  found. 
However — " 

"But  the  fact  remains,  my  dear," 
Carraway  interrupted,  "  that  while  we 
may  surmise  properly  enough  that  the 
original  maker  of  an  object  did  not  in 
tend  it  to  be  used  for  certain  purposes, 
you  cannot  say  positively,  because  you 
don't  know  that  your  surmise  is  abso 
lutely  correct." 

"  But  I  think  you  can,"  said  Mrs. 
Carraway.  "  In  fact,  /will  say  positively 
68 


THE    UTILITARIAN    MR.  CARRAWAY 

that  the  man  who  made  our  new  frying- 
pan  made  it  to  fry  things  in,  and  not  to 
be  used  in  connection  with  a  tack-ham 
mer  as  a  dinner-gong.  I  know  that  the 
hardware  people  who  manufactured  our 
clothes-boiler,  down  in  the  laundry,  did 
not  design  it  as  a  toy  bass-drum  for  the 
children  to  bang  on  on  the  morning  of 
the  Fourth  of  July.  I  would  make  a 
solemn  affidavit  to  the  fact  that  the  maker 
of  a  baby-carriage  never  dreamed  of  its 
possible  use  as  an  impromptu  toboggan 
for  a  couple  of  small  boys  to  coast  down 
hill  on  in  midsummer.  Yet  these  things 
have  been  used  for  these  various  pur 
poses  in  our  own  household  experience. 
A  megaphone  can  be  used  as  a  beehive, 
and  a  hammock  can  be  turned  into  a 
fly-net  for  a  horse,  but  you  never  think 
of  doing  so  ;  and,  furthermore,  you  can 
say  positively  that  while  the  things  may 
be  used  for  these  purposes,  the  original 
maker  never,  never,  never  thought  of  it." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Carraway,  wilting  a 
little.  "  Nonsense.  You  argue  just  like 
a  woman — " 

"  I  think  that  was  what  I  was  de 
signed  for,"  laughed  Mrs.  Carraway. 
"  Of  course  I  do." 

69 


THE   UTILITARIAN    MR.  CARRAWAY 

"  Oh !  but  what  I  mean  is  that  you 
take  utterly  ridiculous  and  extreme  cases. 
The  things  never  could  happen.  Who'd 
ever  dream  of  making  a  beehive  out  of  a 
megaphone  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  think  it  might  occur  to  the 
same  ingenious  mind  that  discovered 
that  a  cloisonne  vase  would  hold  golf- 
balls,"  smiled  Mrs.  Carraway. 

Carraway  laughed.  "  There  you  go 
again,"  he  said.  "  I  wonder  why  women 
can't  argue  without  becoming  ridiculous  ? 
It  would  be  mighty  poor  economy  to 
pay  $4  for  a  megaphone  as  a  substitute 
for  a  $2  beehive." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Carraway. 
"  I  never  thought  of  that." 

"  Of  course  you  didn't,"  retorted 
Carraway,  triumphantly.  "  Of  course 
you  didn't;  and  that's  what  I  mean 
when  I  say  you  argue  like  a  woman. 
You  get  hold  of  what  seems  on  the  sur 
face  to  be  a  regular  solar-plexus  retort, 
and  fail  to  see  how  it  becomes  a  boome 
rang  before  you  can  say  Jack  Robin 
son." 

"  I  suppose  if  I  hadn't  been  worried 
about  the  vase  I  would  have  thought  of 
it,"  said  Mrs.  Carraway,  meekly.  "It 

70 


THE    UTILITARIAN    MR.  CARRAWAY 

worries  me  to  see  a  $150  vase  used  for  a 
purpose  that  a  fifty-cent  calico  bag 
would  serve  quite  as  well." 

Carraway  glanced  searchingly  at  his 
wife. 

"Well  — ah  — hem  !"  he  said.  "Quite 
right,  my  dear,  quite  right.  I  think,  on 
the  whole,  you  would  better  get  the 
calico  bag." 

For  a  few  days  after  this  little  discus 
sion  Carraway  was  very  reticent  about  his 
utilitarian  ideas.  The  more  he  thought 
of  his  wife's  retort  the  less  secure  he  felt 
in  his  own  position,  and  he  was  very 
sorry  he  had  spoken  about  boomerangs 
and  solar-plexus  retorts.  But  with  time 
he  recovered  his  equanimity,  and  early 
in  December  returned  to  his  old  ways. 

"I've  just  been  up  in  the  attic,"  he 
said  to  his  wife  one  Sunday  afternoon, 
when  he  appeared  on  the  scene  rather 
dusty  of  aspect.  "There's  a  whole  lot 
of  useful  stuff  up  there  going  to  waste. 
I  found  four  old  beaver  hats,  any  one  of 
which  would  make  a  very  good  waste- 
basket  for  the  spare  bedroom  if  it  was 
suitably  trimmed  ;  and  I  don't  see  why 
you  don't  take  these  straw  hats  of  mine 
and  make  work-baskets  of  them." 


THE    UTILITARIAN    MR.  CARRAWAY 

Here  he  held  out  two  relics  of  bygone 
fashions  to  his  wife.  Mrs.  Carraway 
took  them  silently.  She  was  so  filled 
with  suppressed  laughter  over  her  hus 
band's  suggestions  that  she  hardly  dared 
to  speak  lest  she  should  give  way  to  her 
mirth,  and  a  man  does  not  generally  ap 
preciate  mirth  at  his  own  expense  after 
he  has  been  rummaging  in  an  attic  for 
an  hour  or  more,  filling  his  lungs  and 
covering  his  clothes  and  hands  with 
dust. 

However,  after  a  moment  she  managed 
to  blurt  out,  "  Perhaps  I  can  make  one 
of  them  dainty  enough  to  send  to  your 
mother  for  her  Christmas  present." 

"  I  was  about  to  suggest  that  very 
same  thing,"  said  Carraway,  brushing 
the  dust  from  his  sleeve.  "  Either  you 
could  send  it  or  Mollie  " — Mollie  was  Mr. 
Carraway's  small  daughter.  "  I  think 
Mollie's  grandmother  would  be  more 
pleased  with  a  gift  of  that  kind  than 
with  one  of  the  useless  little  fallals  that 
children  give  their  grandparents  on 
Christmas  Day.  What  did  she  give  her 
last  year?" 

The  question  was  opportune,  for  it 
gave  Mrs.  Carraway  a  chance  to  laugh 
72 


THE    UTILITARIAN    MR.  CARRAWAY 

outright  with  some  other  ostensible 
object  than  her  husband.  She  availed 
herself  of  the  chance,  threw  her  head 
back,  and  shook  convulsively. 

"  She  sent  her  a  ball  of  shaving-paper," 
Mrs.  Carraway  said. 

A  faint  smile  flitted  over  Carraway's 
face.  "  Well,  it  might  have  been  worse," 
he  said.  "She  can  use  it  for  curling- 
paper."  He  paused  a  moment.  Then 
he  said  :  "  I  want  to  say  to  you,  my  dear, 
that — ah — I  want  Christmas  celebrated 
this  year  after  my  plan  of  selection.  In 
stead  of  squandering  our  hard-earned 
dollars  on  things  no  sensible  person 
wants  and  none  can  use,  we  will  consider, 
first  of  all,  practical  utility." 

"Very  well,"  sighed  Mrs.  Carraway. 
"  I  quite  agree  as  far  as  you  and  I  are 
concerned — but  how  about  the  children? 
I  don't  think  Tommie  would  feel  very 
happy  to  wake  up  on  Christmas  morning 
and  find  a  pair  of  suspenders  and  a  new 
suit  of  clothes  under  the  tree.  He  needs 
both,  but  he  wants  tin  soldiers.  And  as 
for  Mollie,  she  expects  a  doll." 

"Well,  I  don't  wish  to  be  hard  on  the 
children,"  said  Mr.  Carraway,  "but  now 
is  the  time  to  begin  training  them. 
73 


THE    UTILITARIAN    MR.  CARRAWAY 

There  may  be  a  temporary  disappoipt- 
ment,  but  in  the  end  they  will  be  hap 
pier  for  it.  Of  course  I  don't  say  to 
give  them  necessities  of  life  for  Christ 
mas,  but  in  selecting  what  we  do  give 
them,  r^et  something  useful.  Dolls  and 
tin  soldiers  and  toy  balloons  are  well 
enough  in  their  way,  but  they  are  abso 
lutely  useless.  Therefore,  I  say,  don't 
give  them  such  things.  Surely  Mollie 
would  be  pleased  to  receive  a  nice  little 
fur  tippet  or  a  muff,  and  I'll  get  Tommie 
a  handsome  snow -shovel,  that  he  can 
use  when  he  cleans  off  the  paths.  He 
won't  mind  ;  it  will  be  a  gift  worth  hav 
ing,  and  by  degrees  he'll  come  to  see 
that  the  plan  of  utility  is  a  good  one." 

Mrs.  Carraway  discreetly  heH  her 
tongue,  although  she  was  far  from  ap 
proving  Carraway's  course  in  so  far  as  it 
affected  the  children.  She  tacitly  agreed 
to  the  proposition,  but  there  was  the  light 
of  an  idea  in  her  eye. 

The  days  intervening  before  Christ 
mas  passed  rapidly  away,  and  Christmas 
eve  finally  came.  Tommie  and  Mollie 
were  bubbling  over  with  suppressed  ex 
citement,  and  frequently  went  off  into 
spasms  of  giggles.  There  was  some- 
74 


THE   UTILITARIAN   MR.  CARRAWAY 

thing  very  funny  in  the  wind  evidently. 
After  dinner  the  small  family  repaired  to 
the  library,  where  the  children  were  in 
the  habit  of  distributing  their  gifts  for 
their  parents  on  the  night  before  Christ 
mas.  Mrs.  Carraway  was  beaming,  and 
so  was  Mr.  Carraway.  The  children  had 
been  informed  of  what  they  were  to  ex 
pect,  and  after  an  hour  or  two  of  regret, 
they  had  put  their  little  heads  together, 
giggled  a  half-dozen  times,  and  accepted 
the  situation. 

"  Your  mother  has  presented  me  with 
a  ton  of  coal,  children,"  said  Carraway, 
smiling  happily.  "  Now  you  may  think 
that  a  funny  sort  of  gift-—" 

"  Yeth,  papa,"  said  Mollie. 

"Awful  funny,"  said  Tommie,  wig 
gling  with  glee. 

"  Well,  it  does  seem  so  at  first,  but, 
now,  how  much  better  to  give  me  that 
than  to  present  me  with  something 
that  I  could  look  at  for  a  few  days 
and  then  would  have  no  further  use 
for !" 

"  That's  so,  pa,"  said  Mollie. 

"  I  guess  you're  right,"  said  Tommie. 
"  Wat  cher  got  for  ma  ?" 

"  I  have  given  her  a  brand-new  set  of 
75 


THE   UTILITARIAN    MR.  CARRAWAY 

china    for    the    dining-room,"    said    Mr. 
Carraway. 

"  And  it  was  just  what  I  needed,"  said 
Mrs.  Carraway,  happily.  "And  now, 
children,  go  up-stairs,  and  bring  down 
your  presents  for  your  father." 

The  children  sped  noisily  out  of  the 
room  and  up  the  stairs. 

"I  hope  you  impressed  it  on  their 
minds  that  I  wanted  nothing  useless?" 
said  Carraway. 

"  I  did,"  said  Mrs.  Carraway.  "  I  ex 
plained  the  whole  thing  to  them,  and 
told  them  what  they  might  expect  to  re 
ceive.  Then  I  gave  them  each  ten  dol 
lars  of  the  money  they'd  saved,  and  let 
them  go  shopping  on  their  own  account. 
I  don't  know  what  they  bought  you, 
but  it's  something  huge." 

Mrs.  Carraway  had  hardly  finished 
when  the  two  giggling  tots  came  into 
the  room,  carrying  with  difficulty  a  par 
cel,  which,  as  Mrs.  Carraway  had  said, 
was  indeed  huge.  Mr.  Carraway  eyed 
it  with  curiosity  as  the  string  was  un 
fastened  and  the  package  burst  open. 

"  There,"  cried  Tommie,  breathlessly. 

"  It's  all  for  you,  pa,  from  Mollie  and 
me." 

76 


THE   UTILITARIAN   MR.  CARRAWAY 

The  two  children  stood  to  one  side. 
Mrs.  Carraway  appeared  surprised  in  an 
amused  fashion,  while  Carraway  stood 
appalled  at  what  lay  before  him,  as  well 
he  might ;  for  the  package  contained  a 
great  wax  doll  with  deep  staring  blue 
eyes,  a  small  doll's  house  with  two  floors 
in  it  and  a  front  door  that  opened,  china 
and  chairs  and  table  and  bureaus  in 
miniature  to  furnish  the  house — indeed, 
all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  well-ordered 
residence  for  a  French  doll.  Besides 
these  were  two  boxes  of  tin  soldiers,  can 
non,  tents,  swords,  a  fully  equipped  lead 
army,  a  mechanical  fish,  and  a  small 
zinc  steamboat,  suitable  for  a  cruise  in  a 
bath-tub. 

Carraway  looked  at  the  children,  and 
the  children  looked  at  Carraway. 

"Why,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  could 
recover  his  equanimity,  "  there  must  be 
some  mistake." 

"  No,"  said  Mollie.  "  We  picked  'em 
out  for  you  ourselves.  We  thought 
you'd  need  'em." 

Mrs.  Carraway  turned  away  to  cough 
slightly. 

"  Need  them  ?"    demanded  Carraway. 
with  a  perplexed  frown.     "  When  ?" 
77 


THE   UTILITARIAN   MR.  CARRAWAY 

"  Oh — to-morrow,"  said  Tommie. 
"What  for?"  demanded  Carraway, 
"  Why,  to  give  to  us,  of  course"  said  the 
children  in  chorus. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Carraway,  two  hours 
later,  after  the  children  had  retired, 
"I've  been  thinking  this  thing  over." 

"  Yes  ?"  said  Mrs.  Carraway. 

"  Yes,"  said  Carraway  ;  "  and  I've  made 
up  my  mind  that  those  children  of  ours 
are  born  geniuses.  I  don't  believe,  after 
all,  they  could  have  selected  anything 
which  would  be  more  satisfactorily  use 
ful  in  the  present  emergency." 

"  Well,"  observed  Mrs.  Carraway,  qui 
etly,  "  I  don't  either.  I  thought  so  at 
the  time  when  they  asked  my  permis 
sion  to  do  their  shopping  at  the  Inter 
national  Toy  Bazar." 

"It's  a  solar -plexus  retort,  just  the 
same,"  said  Carraway,  as  he  shook  his 
head  and  went  to  bed.  "  I  think  on  the 
ist  of  January,  if  you  have  no  objections, 
Mrs.  Carraway,  I  will  forswear  utilita 
rianism — and  you  may  remove  the  golf- 
balls  from  the  cloisonne  vase  as  soon  as 
you  choose." 

78 


THE  BOOK  SALES  OF  MR.  PETERS 

LIKE  many  another  town  which  frank 
ly  confesses  itself  to  be  a  "  city  of  the 
third  class,"  Dumfries  Corners  is  not 
only  well  provided  but  somewhat  over 
burdened  with  impecunious  institutions 
of  a  public  and  semi-public  nature.  The 
large  generosity  of  persons  who  never 
give  to,  but  are  often  identified  with, 
churches,  hospitals,  associations  of  phil 
anthropic  intent  of  one  kind  and  an 
other,  in  Dumfries  Corners  as  elsewhere, 
is  frequently  the  /:ause  of  embarrass 
ment  to  persons  who  do  give  without 
being  lavish  of  the  so-called  influence  of 
their  names.  There  are  quite  a  dozen 
individuals  out  of  the  forty  thousand 
souls  who  live  in  that  favored  town  who 
find  it  convenient  to*  give  away  as  much 
as  five  hundred  dollars  annually  for  the 
maintenance  of  milk  dispensaries,  hos 
pitals,  and  other  deserving  enterprises  of 
79 


THE  BOOK  SALES  OF  MR.  PETERS 

similar  nature  for  the  needy.  Yet  at  the 
close  of  each  fiscal  year  those  who  have 
given  to  this  extent  are  invariably  con 
fronted  by  "  reports,"  issued  by  officials 
of  the  various  institutions,  frankly  con 
fessing  failure  to  make  both  ends  meet, 
and  everybody  wonders  why  more  in 
terest  has  not  been  taken.  "  Surely,  we 
have  loaned  our  names  !"  they  say.  It 
never  occurs  to  anybody  that  one  suc 
cessful  charity  is  better  than  six  failures. 
It  has  never  entered  into  the  minds  of 
the  managers  of  these  enterprises  that  a 
man  disposed  to  give  away  five  hundred 
dollars  could  make  his  contributions  to 
the  public  welfare  more  efficacious  by 
giving  the  whole  to  one  institution  in 
stead  of  dividing  it  among  twenty. 

However,  human  nature  is  the  same 
everywhere,  and  until  the  crack  of  doom 
sounds  mankind  will  be  found  under 
taking  more  charity  than  it  can  carry 
through  successfully,  not  only  in  Dum 
fries  Corners,  but  everywhere  else.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  fix  the  responsi 
bility  for  this  state*  of  affairs,  although 
the  large  generosity  of  those  who  lend 
their  names  and  blockade  their  pockets 
may  consider  itself  a  candidate  for  chief 
80 


THE   BOOK   SALES   OF   MR.   PETERS 

honors  in  this  somewhat  vital  matter. 
It  may  be,  too,  that  the  large  generosity 
of  people  who  really  are  largely  gener 
ous  with  their  thousands  has  something 
to  do  with  it.  There  is  more  than  one 
ten -thousand -dollar  town  in  existence 
which  has  accepted  a  hundred-thousand- 
dollar  hospital  from  generously  disposed 
citizens,  and  the  other  citizens  thereof 
have  properly  hailed  their  benefactor's 
name  with  loud  acclaim,  but  the  hun 
dred -thousand -dollar  hospital,  which 
might  have  been  a  fifty-thousand-dollar 
hospital,  with  an  endowment  of  fifty 
thousand  more  to  make  it  self-support 
ing,  has  a  tendency  to  ruin  other  chari 
ties  quite  as  worthy,  because  its  main 
tenance  pumps  dry  the  pockets  of  those 
who  have  to  give.  It  will  require  a 
drastic  course  of  training,  I  fear,  to  open 
the  eyes  of  the  public  to  the  fact  that 
even  generosity  can  be  overdone,  and  I 
must  disclaim  any  desire  to  superintend 
the  process  of  securing  their  awakening, 
for  it  is  an  ungrateful  task  to  criticise 
even  a  mistakenly  generous  person  ;  and 
man  being  by  nature  prone  to  thought 
less  judgments,  the  critic  of  a  philan 
thropist  who  spends  a  million  of  dollars 
F  81 


THE   BOOK   SALES   OF   MR.  PETERS 

to  provide  tortoise-shell  combs  for  bald 
beggars  would  shortly  find  himself  in 
hot  water.  Therefore  let  us  discuss  not 
the  causes,  but  some  of  the  results  of 
the  system  which  has  placed  upon  sub 
urban  shoulders  such  seemingly  hope 
less  philanthropic  burdens.  At  Dumfries 
Corners  the  book  sales  of  Mr.  Peters, 
one  of  the  vestrymen,  were  one  of  these 
results. 

There  were  two  of  these  sales.  The 
first,  like  all  book  sales  for  charity,  con 
sisted  largely  of  the  vending  of  ice 
cream  and  cake.  The  second  was  differ 
ent  ;  but  I  shall  not  deal  with  that  until 
I  have  described  the  first. 

This  had  been  given  at  Mr.  Peters's 
house,  with  the  cheerful  consent  of  Mrs. 
Peters.  The  object  was  to  raise  seventy- 
five  dollars,  the  sum  needed  to  repair  the 
roof  of  Mr.  Peters's  church.  In  ordinary 
times  the  congregation  could  have  ad 
vanced  the  seventy -five  dollars  neces 
sary  to  keep  the  rain  from  trickling 
through  the  roof  and  leaking  in  a 
steady  stream  upon  the  pew  of  Mrs. 
Bumpkin,  a  lady  too  useful  in  knitting 
sweaters  for  the  heathen  in  South  Africa 
to  be  ignored.  But  in  that  year  of  grace, 
82 


THEiBOOK   SALES  OF   MR.   PETERS 

1897,  there  had  been  so  many  demands 
made  upon  everybody,  from  the  Saint 
William's  Hospital  for  Trolley  Victims, 
from  the  Mistletoe  Inn,  a  club  for  work- 
ingmen  which  was  in  its  initial  stages 
and  most  worthily  appealed  to  the  pub 
lic  purse,  and  for  the  University  Exten 
sion  Society,  whose  ten-cent  lectures 
were  attended  by  the  swellest  people  in 
Dumfries  Corners  and  their  daughters — 
and  so  on — that  the  collections  of  Saint 
George's  had  necessarily  fallen  off  to 
such  an  extent  that  plumbers'  bills  were 
almost  as  much  of  a  burden  to  the 
rector  as  the  needs  of  missionaries  in 
Borneo  for  dress -suits  and  golf -clubs. 
In  this  emergency,  Mr.  Peters,  whose 
account  at  his  bank  had  been  over 
drawn  by  his  check  which  had  paid  for 
painting  the  Sunday-school  room  pink 
in  order  that  the  young  religious  idea 
might  be  taught  to  shoot  under  more 
roseate  circumstances  than  the  blue 
walls  would  permit,  and  so  could  not 
well  offer  to  have  the  roof  repaired  at 
his  own  expense,  suggested  a  book  sale. 
"We  can  get  a  lot  of  books  on  sale 
from  publishers,"  he  said,  "and  I  haven't 
any  doubt  that  Mrs.  Peters  will  be  glad 
83 


THE   BOOK   SALES  OF   MR.   PETERS 

to  have  the  affair  at  our  house.  We  can 
surely  raise  seventy-five  dollars  in  this 
way.  Besides,  it  will  draw  the  ladies  in 
the  congregation  together." 

The  offer  was  accepted.  Mrs.  Peters 
acquiesced.  Peters  and  his  co-workers 
asked  favors  and  got  them  from  friends 
in  the  publishing  world.  The  day  came. 
The  books  arrived,  and  the  net  results 
to  the  Roofing  Fund  of  Saint  George's 
were  gratifying.  The  vestry  had  asked 
for  seventy -five  dollars,  and  the  sale 
actually  cleared  eighty  -  three  !  To  be 
sure,  Mr.  Wiggins  spent  fifty  dollars 
at  the  sale.  And  Mrs.  Thompson  spent 
forty -nine.  And  the  cake -table  took 
in  thirty  -  eight.  And  the  ice  -  cream 
was  sold,  thanks  to  the  voracity  of  the 
children,  for  nineteen  dollars.  And  some 
pictures  which  had  been  donated  by 
Mrs.  Bumpkin  sold  for  thirty-one  dol 
lars,  and  the  gambling  cakes,  with  rings 
and  gold  dollars  in  them,  cleared  fif 
teen.  Still,  when  it  was  all  reckoned 
up,  eighty-three  dollars  stood  to  the 
credit  of  the  roof  !  In  affairs  of  this  kind, 
results,  not  expenses,  are  considered. 

Surely  the  venture  was  a  success.  Al 
though  from  the  point  of  view  of  bring- 
84 


THE   BOOK   SALES   OF   MR.   PETERS 

ing  the  ladies  of  the  congregation  to 
gether — well,  the  less  said  about  that  the 
better.  In  any  event,  parts  of  Dumfries 
Corners  were  cooler  the  following  sum 
mer  than  they  had  ever  been  before. 

And  then,  in  the  natural  sequence  of 
events,  the  next  year  came.  The  hos 
pital,  and  the  inn,  and  the  various  other 
institutions  of  the  city  indorsed  by 
prominent  names,  but  void  of  resources, 
as  usual,  left  the  church  so  poor  that 
something  had  to  be  done  to  repair  the 
cellar  of  Saint  George's  by  outside  ef 
fort,  water  leaking  in  from  the  street. 
The  matter  was  discussed,  and  the 
amount  needed  was  settled  upon.  This 
time  Saint  George's  needed  ninety  dol 
lars.  It  didn't  really  need  so  much,  but 
it  was  thought  well  to  ask  for  more  than 
was  needed,  "  because  then,  you  know, 
you're  more  likely  to  get  it." 

The  book-cake-and-cream  sale  of  the 
year  before  had  been  so  successful  that 
everybody  said  :  "  By  all  means  let  us 
have  another  literary  afternoon  at  Mr. 
Peters's." 

"  All  right !"  said  Peters,  calmly,  when 
the  project  was  suggested.  "  Certainly  ! 
Of  course  !  Have  anything  you  please 
85 


THE  BOOK  SALES  OF  MR.  PETERS 

at  my  house.  Not  that  I  am  running  a 
casino,  but  that  I  really  enjoy  turning 
my  house  inside  out  in  a  good  cause 
once  in  a  while,"  he  added,  with  a  smile 
which  those  about  him  believed  to  be 
sincere.  "  Only,"  said  he,  "  kindly  make 
me  master  of  ceremonies  on  this  occa 
sion." 

"  Certainly  !"  replied  the  vestry.  "  If 
this  thing  is  to  be  in  your  house  you 
ought  to  have  everything  to  say  about 
it." 

"  I  ask  for  control,"  said  Peters,  "  not 
because  I  am  fond  of  power,  but  because 
experience  has  taught  me  that  somebody 
should  control  affairs  of  this  sort." 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  reply  again,  and 
Peters  was  made  a  committee  of  one, 
with  power  to  run  the  sale  in  his  own 
way,  and  the  vestry  settled  down  in  that 
calm  and  contented  frame  of  mind  which 
goes  with  the  consciousness  of  solvency. 

Three  months  elapsed,  and  nothing 
was  done.  No  cards  were  issued  from 
the  home  of  Peters  announcing  a  sale  of 
any  kind,  cake,  cream,  or  books,  and  the 
literary  afternoon  seemed  to  have  sunk 
into  oblivion.  The  chairman  of  the  Com 
mittee  on  Supplies,  however,  having  gone 
86 


THE  BOOK  SALES  OF  MR.  PETERS 

into  the  cellar  one  morning  to  inspect 
the  coal  reserve,  found  himself  obliged 
either  to  wade  knee  deep  in  water  or  to 
neglect  his  duty — and,  of  course,  being  a 
sensible  man,  he  chose  the  latter  course. 
He  knew  that  in  impecunious  churches 
willing  candidates  for  vestry  honors  were 
rare,  and  he,  therefore,  properly  saved 
himself  for  future  use.  Wading  in  water 
might  have  brought  on  pneumonia,  and 
he  was  aware  that  there  really  isn't  any 
reason  why  a  man  should  die  for  a  cause 
if  there  is  a  reasonable  excuse  for  his 
living  in  the  same  behalf.  But  he  went 
home  angry. 

"  That  cellar  isn't  repaired  yet,"  he  said 
to  his  wife.  "  You'd  think  from  the 
quantity  of  water  there  that  ours  was  a 
Baptist  church  instead  of  the  Church  of 
England." 

"  It's  a  shame  !"  ejaculated  his  wife, 
who,  having  that  morning  finished  em 
broidering  a  centre-piece  for  the  dinner- 
table  of  the  missionaries  in  Madagascar, 
was  full  of  conscious  rectitude.  "  A  per 
fect  shame  ;  who's  to  blame,  dear  ?" 

"  Peters,"  replied  the  chairman.  "  Same 
old  story.  He  makes  all  sorts  of  prom 
ises,  and  never  carries  'em  out.  He  thinks 
87 


THE   BOOK   SALES   OF   MR.   PETERS 

that  just  because  he  pays  a  few  bills  we 
haven't  anything  to  say.  But  he'll  find 
out  his  mistake.  I'll  call  him  down.  I'll 
write  him  a  letter  he  won't  forget  in  a 
hurry.  If  he  wasn't  willing  to  attend  to 
the  matter  he  had  no  business  to  accept 
the  responsibility.  I'll  write  and  tell 
him  so." 

And  then,  the  righteous  wrath  of  the 
chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Supplies 
having  expended  itself  in  this  explosion 
at  his  own  dinner-table,  that  good  gen 
tleman  forgot  all  about  it,  did  not  write 
the  letter,  and  in  fact  never  thought  of 
the  matter  again  until  the  next  meeting 
of  the  vestry,  when  he  suavely  and  jok 
ingly  inquired  if  the  Committee  on  Leaks 
and  Book  Sales  had  any  report  to  make. 
To  his  surprise  Mr.  Peters  responded  at 
once. 

"Yes,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  taking  a 
check  out  of  his  pocket  and  handing  it 
to  the  treasurer.  "The  Committee  on 
Leaks,  Literature,  and  Lemonade  reports 
that  the  leak  is  still  in  excellent  condi 
tion  and  is  progressing  daily,  while  the 
Literature  and  Lemonade  have  pro 
duced  the  very  gratifying  sum  of  one 
hundred  and  thirtv- seven  dollars  and 


THE  BOOK  SALES  OF  MR.  PETERS 

sixty-three  cents,  a  check  for  which  I 
have  just  handed  the  treasurer." 

Even  the  rector  looked  surprised. 

"  Pretty  good  result,  eh  ?"  said  Peters. 
"  You  ask  for  ninety  dollars  and  get  one 
hundred  and  thirty -seven  dollars  and 
sixty-three  cents.  You  can  spend  a  hun 
dred  dollars  now  on  the  leak  and  make 
a  perfect  leak  of  it,  and  have  a  balance 
of  thirty-seven  dollars  and  sixty-three 
cents  to  buy  books  for  the  Hottentots  or 
to  invest  in  picture-books  for  the  Blind 
Asylum  library." 

"Ah — Mr.  Peters,"  said  the  chairman 
of  the  Committee  on  Supplies,  "  I — ah — 
I  was  not  aware  that  you'd  had  the  sale. 
I — ah — I  didn't  receive  any  notice." 

"Oh  yes  —  we  had  it,"  said  Peters, 
rubbing  his  hands  together  buoyantly. 
"We  had  it  last  night,  and  it  went  off 
superbly." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  the  chairman  of 
the  Committee  on  Supplies.  "I  should 
like  to  have  been  there." 

"  I  didn't  know  of  it  myself,  Mr.  Peters," 
said  the  rector,  "  but  I  am  glad  it  was  so 
successful.  Were  there  many  present  ?" 

"  Well— no,"  said  Peters.  "  Not  many. 
Fact  is,  Mrs.  Peters  and  the  treasurer 
89 


THE    BOOK   SALES   OF   MR.   PETERS 

here  and  I  were  the  only  persons  pres 
ent,  gentlemen.  But  the  results  sought 
were  more  than  accomplished." 

"  I  don't  see  exactly  how,  unless  we 
are  to  regard  this  check  as  a  gift,"  ob 
served  the*  chairman  of  the  Committee 
on  Supplies,  coldly. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  how,"  said  Peters. 
"  The  check  isn't  a  gift  at  all.  Last  year 
you  had  a  book  sale  at  my  house,  and 
this  year  you  voted  to  have  another.  I 
couldn't  very  well  object — didn't  want 
to,  in  fact.  Very  glad  to  have  it  as 
long  as  I  was  allowed  to  control  it.  But 
last  year  we  cleared  up  a  bare  eighty 
dollars.  This  year  we  have  cleared  up 
one  hundred  and  thirty -seven  dollars 
and  sixty-three  cents.  Last  year's  book 
sale  cost  me  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars.  The  children  who  attended, 
aided  and  abetted  by  my  own,  spilled  so 
much  ice  cream  on  my  dining-room  rug 
that  Mrs.  Peters  was  forced  to  send  it  to 
the  cleaners.  A  very  charming  young 
woman  whose  name  I  shall  not  mention 
placed  a  chocolate  eclair  upon  my  library 
sofa  while  she  inspected  a  volume  of 
Gibson's  drawings.  Another  equally 
charming  young  woman  sat  down  upon 
90 


THE   BOOK  SALES  OF  MR.    PETERS 

it,  and,  whatever  it  did  to  her  dress,  that 
eclair  effectually  ruined  the  covering  of 
my  sofa.  Then,  as  you  may  remember, 
the  sale  of  books  took  place  in  my  library, 
and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing,  too 
late,  one  of  our  sweetest  little  sales 
women  replenishing  her  stock  from  my 
shelves.  She  had  sold  out  all  the  books 
that  had  been  provided,  and  in  a  mad 
moment  of  enthusiasm  for  the  cause 
parted  with,  a  volume  I  had  secured 
after  much  difficulty  in  London  to  com 
plete  a  set  of  some  rarity  for  about 
seven  dollars  less  than  the  book  had 
cost." 

"Why  did  you  not  object?"  demand 
ed  the  chairman  of  the  Committee  on 
Supplies. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Peters,  "  I 
never  object  to  anything  my  guests  may 
do,  particularly  if  they  are  charming 
and  enthusiastic  young  women  engaged 
in  church  work.  But  I  learned  a  lesson, 
and  last  night's  book  sale  was  the  result. 
If  the  chairman  of  the  Committee  on 
Supplies  demands  it,  here  is  a  full  ac 
count  of  receipts." 

Mr.  Peters  handed  over  a  memoran 
dum  which  read  as  follows  : 


THE   BOOK   SALES   OF   MR.   PETERS 

Saving  on  Floors  by  not  having  Book  Sale,  $18.00 

Saving  on  Carpets  by  not  having  Book  Sale,  6.50 

Saving  on  Library  by  not  having  Book  Sale,  29.00 

Saving  on  Time  by  not  having  Book  Sale,  50.00 
Saving  on  Furniture  by  not  having  Book 

Sale 28.27 

Saving  on  Incidentals  by  not  having  Book 

Sale, 5.86 

$137-63 

"With  this  statement,  gentlemen," 
said  Mr.  Peters,  suavely,  "  should  the 
Finance  Committee  require  it,  I  am  pre 
pared  to  submit  the  vouchers  which 
show  how  much  wear  and  tear  on  a 
house  is  required  to  raise  eighty  dollars 
for  the  heathen." 

"  That,"  said  the  chairman  of  the  Fi 
nance  Committee,  "  will  not  be  necessary 
— though — "  and  he  added  this  wholly 
jocularly,  "  though  I  don't  think  Mr. 
Peters  should  have  charged  for  his  time  ; 
fifty  dollars  is  a  good  deal  of  money." 

"  He  didn't  charge  for  his  time,"  mur 
mured  the  treasurer.  "  In  this  statement 
he  has  paid  for  it!" 

"  Still,"  said  he  of  Supplies,  "  the  so 
cial  end  of  it  has  been  wiped  out." 

"  Of  course  it  has,"  retorted  Mr.  Pe 
ters.  "And  a  very  good  thing  it  has 
92 


THE   BOOK   SALES  OF   MR.   PETERS 

been,  too.  Did  you  ever  know  of  a 
church  function  that  did  not  arouse  ani 
mosities  among  the  women,  Mr.  Squills  ?" 

The  gentleman,  in  the  presence  of  men 
of  truth,  had  to  admit  that  he  never 
knew  of  such  a  thing. 

"  Then  what's  the  matter  with  my 
book  sale  ?"  demanded  Peters.  "  It  has 
raised  more  money  than  last  year ;  has 
cost  me  no  more — and  there  won't  be 
any  social  volcanoes  for  the  vestry  to  sit 
over  during  the  coming  year." 

A  dead  silence  came  over  all. 

"I  move,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  at  whose 
house  the  meeting  was  held,  "  that  we 
go  into  executive  session.  Mrs.  Jones 
has  provided  some  cold  birds,  and  a — 
ah — salad." 

Mr.  Jones's  motion  was  carried,  and  be 
fore  the  meeting  finally  adjourned  under 
the  genial  influence  of  good-fellowship 
and  pleasant  converse  Mr.  Peters's  second 
book  sale  was  voted  to  have  been  of  the 
best  quality. 


THE  VALOR  OF  BRINLEY 

HOWEVER  differentiated  from  other 
suburban  places  Dumfries  Corners  may 
be  in  most  instances,  in  the  matter  of 
obtaining  and  retaining  efficient  domes 
tics  the  citizens  of  that  charming  town 
find  it  much  like  all  other  communities 
of  its  class.  Civilization  brings  with  it 
everywhere,  it  would  seem,  problems 
difficult  of  solution,  and  conspicuous 
among  them  may  be  mentioned  the  ser 
vant  problem.  It  is  probable  that  the 
only  really  happy  young  couple  that 
ever  escaped  the  annoyance  of  this  par 
ticular  evil  were  Adam  and  Eve,  and 
as  one  recalls  their  case  it  was  the  inter 
ference  of  a  third  party,  in  the  matter 
of  their  diet,  that  brought  all  their 
troubles  upon  them,  so  that  even  they 
may  not  be  said  to  have  enjoyed  com 
plete  immunity  from  domestic  trials. 
What  quality  it  is  in  human  nature  that 
94 


THE  VALOR  OF   BRINLEY 

leads  a  competent  housemaid  or  a  truly 
talented  culinary  artist  to  abhor  the 
country-side,  and  to  prefer  the  dark,  cel 
lar-like  kitchens  of  the  city  houses  it  is 
difficult  to  surmise  ;  why  the  suburban 
housekeeper  finds  her  choice  limited 
every  autumn  to  the  maid  that  the  city 
folks  have  chosen  to  reject  is  not  clear. 
That  these  are  the  conditions  which 
confront  surburban  residents  only  the 
exceptionally  favored  rustic  can  deny. 

In  Dumfries  Corners,  even  were  there 
no  rich  red  upon  the  trees,  no  calendar 
upon  the  walls,  no  invigorating  tonic  in 
the  air  to  indicate  the  season,  all  would 
know  when  autumn  had  arrived  by  the 
anxious,  hunted  look  upon  the  faces  of 
the  good  women  of  that  place  as  they 
ride  on  the  trains  to  and  from  the  intel 
ligence  offices  of  the  city  looking  for 
additions  to  their  menage.  Of  course 
in  Dumfries  Corners,  as  elsewhere,  it  is 
possible  to  employ  home  talent,  but  to 
do  this  requires  larger  means  than  most 
suburbanites  possess,  for  the  very  sim 
ple  reason  that  the  home  talent  is  al 
ways  plentifully  endowed  with  depend 
ents.  These  latter,  to  the  number  of 
eight  or  ten — which  observation  would 
95 


THE  VALOR   OF   BRINLEY 

lead  one  to  believe  is  the  average  of  the 
successful  local  cook,  for  instance — 
increase  materially  the  butcher's  and 
grocer's  bills,  and,  one  not  infrequently 
suspects,  the  coal  man's  as  well. 

Years  ago,  when  he  was  young  and  in 
experienced,  the  writer  of  this  narrative, 
his  suspicions  having  been  aroused  by 
the  seeming  social  popularity  of  his 
cook,  took  occasion  one  Sunday  after 
noon  to  count  the  number  of  mysterious 
packages,  of  about  a  pound  in  weight 
each,  which  set  forth  from  his  kitchen 
and  were  carried  along  his  walk  in  vari 
ous  stages  of  ineffectual  concealment  by 
the  lady's  visitors.  The  result  was  by 
no  means  appalling,  seven  being  the 
total.  But  granting  that  seven  was  a 
fair  estimate  of  the  whole  week's  output, 
and  that  the  stream  flowed  on  Sundays 
only,  and  not  steadily  through  the  other 
six  days,  the  annual  output,  on  a  basis 
of  fifty  weeks — giving  the  cook's  gener 
osity  a  two  weeks'  vacation — three  hun 
dred  and  fifty  pounds  of  something  were 
diverted  from  his  pantry  into  channels 
for  which  they  were  not  originally  de 
signed,  and  on  a  valuation  of  twenty-five 
cents  apiece  his  minimum  contribution 
96 


THE  VALOR  OF   BRINLEY 

to  his  cook's  dependents  became  thereby 
very  nearly  one  hundred  dollars.  Add 
to  this  the  probable  gifts  to  similarly 
fortunate  relatives  of  a  competent  local 
waitress,  of  an  equally  generously  dis 
posed  laundress  with  cousins,  not  to 
mention  the  genial,  open-handed  gener 
osity  of  a  hired  man  in  the  matter  of 
kindling-wood  and  edibles,  and  living 
becomes  expensive  with  local  talent  to 
help. 

It  is  in  recognition  of  this  seemingly 
cast-iron  rule  that  local  service  is  too  ex 
pensive  for  persons  of  modest  income, 
that  the  modern  economical  house-wife 
prefers  to  fill  her  manage  with  maids 
from  the  metropolis,  even  though  it  hap 
pen  that  she  must  take  those  who  for 
one  reason  or  another  have  failed  to 
please  her  city  sisters.  It  may  be,  too, 
that  this  is  one  of  the  reasons  for  the  con 
stant  changes  in  most  suburban  houses, 
for  it  is  equally  axiomatic  that  once  an 
alien  becomes  acclimated  she  takes  on  a 
clientele  of  adopted  relatives,  who  in  the 
course  of  time  become  as  much  of  a 
drain  upon  the  treasury  of  the  household 
as  the  Simon-Pure  article. 

The  Brinleys  had  been  through  the 
G  97 


THE  VALOR  OF   BRINLEY 

domestic  mill  in  its  every  phase.  They 
had  had  cooks,  and  cooks,  and  cooks,  and 
maids,  and  maids,  and  maids,  plus  other 
maids  ;  they  had  been  face  to  face  with 
arson  and  murder ;  Mrs.  Brinley  had 
parted  a  laundress  armed  with  a  flat-iron 
from  a  belligerent  cook  armed  with  an 
ice-pick,  and  twice  the  ministers  of  the 
law  had  carried  certain  irate  women 
bodily  forth  with  the  direst  of  threats 
lest  they  should  return  later  and  remove 
the  Brinley  family  from  the  list  of  the 
living. 

All  of  which  contributed  to  Mrs.  Brin- 
ley's  unhappiness  and  rather  increased 
than  diminished  her  natural  timidity. 
Brinley,  on  the  other  hand,  professed  to 
know  no  fear,  but  according  to  his  theory 
that  ways  and  means  were  his  care,  and 
that  the  domestic  affairs  of  his  house 
hold  were  his  wife's,  and  beyond  his  ju 
risdiction,  held  himself  aloof  and  said 
never  a  word  to  the  recalcitrant  servant, 
confining  what  upbraiding  he  did  exclu 
sively  to  Mrs.  Brinley. 

"  Why  don't  you  scold  Bridget  ?"  cried 

Mrs.  Brinley  one  morning,  after  Brinley 

had    made   a   few    remarks    to  his  wife 

which  were  not  to  her  taste,  inasmuch 

98 


THE  VALOR  OF   BRINLEY 

as  she  felt  that  she  had  done  nothing  to 
deserve  them.  "  I  didn't  burn  the  steak." 

"  That  is  very  true,  my  dear,"  said 
Brinley,  "  but  you  are  responsible  for  the 
cook  who  did.  It  would  never  do  for  me  to 
interfere.  I  have  troubles  enough  with 
my  office-boys.  This  is  your  bailiwick, 
not  mine,  and  until  I  ask  you  to  scold 
my  clerks  you  mustn't  ask  me  to  scold 
your  servants."  With  this  sage  remark 
the  valiant  Brinley  at  once  took  his  de 
parture. 

Time  passed,  and  it  so  happened  one 
autumn  that  the  once  happy  household 
found  itself  in  the  throes  of  a  particular 
ly  aggravated  case  of  cook.  She  was  a 
sixteen-dollar  cook,  and  had  been  recom 
mended  as  being  "splendid."  In  just 
what  respect  she  showed  her  splendor, 
save  in  her  regal  lack  of  manners  and 
the  marvellous  coloring  of  her  costumes 
on  her  Sundays  out,  was  never  percepti 
ble,  but  one  thing  that  was  wholly  clear 
at  the  end  of  a  three-weeks'  service  was 
her  independence  of  manner. 

Meals  were  never  ready  on  time,  and 
the  dinner-hour,  instead  of  being  a  fixed 
time  beneath  her  sway,  seemed  to  be 
come  a  variable  point,  according  to  the 
99 


THE   VALOR   OF   BRINLEY 

lady's  whim.  In  the  observance  of  the 
breakfast-hour  she  was  equally  erratic, 
and  on  several  trying  occasions  Brinley 
was  on  the  verge  of  the  dilemma  of 
either  failing  to  keep  an  appointment  in 
town  or  going  without  his  morning  meal. 
Sometimes  the  coffee  would  come  to  the 
table  a  thin,  amber  fluid  that  tasted  like 
particularly  bad  consomme.  Again  it 
would  be  served  with  all  the  thickness 
of  a  puree.  Her  bread  was  similarly 
variable  in  its  undesirability.  There 
were  biscuits  that  held  all  the  flaky 
charm  of  a  snowball.  There  were  loaves 
of  bread  that  reminded  one  of  the  stories 
of  hardtack  in  Cuba  during  the  late  un 
pleasantness.  There  were  English  muffins 
that  rested  upon  poor  Brinley's  digestion 
as  the  world  may  fairly  be  presumed  to 
rest  upon  the  shoulders  of  Atlas,  and,  in 
deed,  it  is  a  tradition  in  the  Brinley  family 
that  one  of  this  cook's  pie-crusts  rivalled 
Harveyized  steel  in  its  impenetrability. 

Indeed,  Brinley,  usually  a  silent  suf 
ferer,  commented  upon  this  cohesive 
quality  of  Ellen's  pastry  on  two  different 
occasions.  On  the  first  he  advised  Mrs. 
Brinley  to  learn  the  secret  of  Ellen's 
manipulation  of  the  ingredients  of  a  pie- 
100 


THE  VALOR  OF   BRINLEY 

crust,  and  have .  herself  capitalized  to 
rival  the  corpora vio-ns.  Which  provide  the 
government  with  armqr-plat.e.  Qn.the 
second  he  made  >  the .  sage  thc;ugli  dis 
agreeable  remark  that  the  "  next  apple- 
pie  we  have  should  be  served  with  indi 
vidual  steam-drills."  And  he  one  day 
accompanied  Mrs.  Brinley  to  a  quiet  golf 
links,  and,  when  he  had  teed  up,  that  good 
lady  observed  one  of  Ellen's  doughnuts 
upon  the  little  mound  of  sand  before 
him  instead  of  his  favorite  ball. 

"  I  cut  up  the  Silverton  ball  so,"  he 
said,  as  he  addressed  the  tee,  "  that  I'm 
ashamed  of  myself.  I  may  not  play  any 
better  with  this  doughnut,  but  it  will 
never  show  the  marks  of  the  irons  as  a 
bit  of  mere  gutta-percha  would." 

"  If  you  feel  that  way  about  Ellen," 
Mrs.  Brinley  observed,  just  as  Brinley 
was  about  to  drive  off  with  a  real  ball,  "I 
don't  see  why  you  don't  discharge  her." 

Brinley  took  his  eye  off  the  ball  to 
look  indignantly  upon  his  wife,  and  con 
sequently  foozled. 

"Discharge  her?  Why  should  I  dis 
charge  her?"  he  demanded,  his  temper 
growing  as  he  observed  where  he  had 
landed  his  ball.  "  I'm  not  running  the 
101 


THE  VALOR   OF   BRINLEY 

houset,  mj  dear.  You  are.  I  didn't  ask 
you  to  ,tell  Miss,  Flossie  Fairfax  that,  as 
she  cpul^n'.t  spell,  she  was  no  longer 
usfrfal  as,  a  stenographer  in  the  office  of 
Brinley  &  Rutherford.  Why  should  you 
ask  me  to  tell  a  cook  that  her  services 
are  no  longer  required  in  the  establish 
ment  of  Brinley  &  Brinley,  of  which  you 
are  the  manager?" 

"  It  isn't  easy  to  discharge  a  girl,"  Mrs. 
Brinley  began.  "  Particularly  a  quarrel 
some  woman  like  Ellen." 

"  Oh,  that's  it,"  said  Brinley.  "  You 
are  afraid  of  her." 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  Mrs.  Brinley. 
«  But—" 

"Of  course,  if  you  are  afraid  of  her,  I'll 
get  rid  of  her,"  persisted  Brinley,  valiant 
ly.  "Just  wait  until  we  get  home.  I'll 
show  you  a  thing  or  two  when  it  comes 
to  ridding  one's  self  of  an  unfaithful  ser 
vant.  The  steak  this  morning  looked 
like  a  stake  that  martyrs  had  been 
burned  at,  and  I  am  not  afraid  to  say  so." 

And  so  it  was  decided  that  Brinley, 
on  his  return  home,  should  interview 
Ellen  and  inform  her  that  her  services 
would  not  be  required  after  the  first  of 
the  month. 

102 


THE  VALOR   OF   BRINLEY 

"Now  let's  play  golf,"  he  said.  "I'll 
settle  Ellen  in  a  minute.  Fore  !" 

How  Brinley  fulfilled  his  promise  is 
best  shown  by  his  talk  with  Mrs.  Brinley 
the  next  morning  when,  somewhat  red 
of  face,  he  rejoined  her  in  the  dining- 
room  after  his  interview  with  Ellen. 

"  Well  ?"  said  Mrs.  Brinley. 

"  It's  all  right,"  Brinley  replied,  with 
an  uneasy  glance  at  his  wife.  "  She's 
going  to  stay." 

"  Going  to  stay  ?"  echoed  Mrs.  Brinley, 
her  eyes  opening  wide  in  a  very  natural 
astonishment.  "  Why,  I  thought  you 
were  going  to  discharge  her?" 

"Well — I  was,"  he  said,  haltingly.  "I 
was,  of  course.  That's  what  I  went  down 
for — but — er — you  know,  my  dear,  that 
there  are  two  sides  to  every  question." 

"  Even  to  Ellen's  biscuits  ?"  Mrs.  Brin 
ley  laughed. 

"  Never  mind  that.  She's  going  to  do 
better,"  said  Brinley.  "  You'll  find  that 
hereafter  we've  got  a  cook,  and  not  an 
incendiary  nor  a  forger  of  armor-plate." 

"  And  may  I  ask  how  this  wonderful  re 
form  has  been  worked  in  the  brief  space 
of    ten   minutes?"  asked    Mrs.    Brinley. 
"Have  you  hypnotized  her?" 
103 


THE  VALOR  OF   BRINLEY 

"  No,"  said  Brinley.  Then  he  looked 
rather  sheepishly  out  of  the  window. 
"  I've  given  her  an  incentive  to  do  better. 
I've  increased  her  wages." 

Mrs.  Brinley  gazed  at  him  silently  in 
open-mouthed  wonder  for  a  full  half- 
minute. 

"You  did  what?"  asked  Mrs.  Brinley. 

"  I  told  her  we'd  give  her  twenty  dol 
lars  a  month  instead  of  sixteen,"  said 
Brinley.  "  You  needn't  laugh,"  he  added. 
"  I  began  very  severely.  Asked  her  what 
she  meant  by  ignoring  our  wishes  as  to 
hours.  I  dilated  forcefully  upon  her  ap 
parent  fondness  for  burning  steaks  to  a 
crisp,  and  sending  broiled  chicken  to  the 
table  looking  as  if  somebody  had  dropped 
a  flat-iron  on  them." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brinley. 
"And  what  did  she  say?  Was  she  im 
pertinent  ?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Brinley  "She 
took  it  very  nicely  until  I  spoke  of  the 
muffins,  after  which  I  had  intended  to 
give  her  notice  to  quit,  but  she  took  the 
wind  completely  out  of  my  sails  by  ask 
ing  me  what  I  expected  at  sixteen  dollars 
a  month." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Mrs.  Brinley. 
104 


THE  VALOR   OF   BRINLEY 

"  Exactly,"  said  Brinley.  "  That  was  a 
point  I  had  not  considered  at  all.  After 
all,  she  was  right.  What  can  you  expect 
for  sixteen  dollars  ?" 

"  Well,  what  next  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Brinley, 
her  eyes  a-twinkle. 

"  I  asked  her  if  she  thought  she  could 
do  better  on  twenty  dollars,"  he  an 
swered.  "  She  thought  she  could,  and 
that's  the  way  it  stands  now." 

"  I  see,"  said  Mrs.  Brinley,  and  then 
she  burst  into  a  perfect  explosion  of 
laughter,  which  she  soon  curbed,  how 
ever,  as  she  noticed  the  expression  on 
poor  Brinley's  face.  "  I've  no  doubt 
you  have  acted  with  perfect  justice  in 
this  matter,  my  dear  George,"  she  said. 
"  But  I  think  hereafter  I'll  do  my  own 
discharging.  Your  way  is  rather  ex 
travagant —  er — don't  you  really  think 
so?" 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Brinley,  and  departed 
for  town. 

"  The  madam  is  right  about  that,"  he 
said  to  himself  later  in  the  day,  as  he 
thought  over  the  incident.  "  But  ex 
travagant  or  not,  I  couldn't  have  dis 
charged  that  woman  if  somebody  had 
offered  me  a  clear  hundred.  Mrs.  B. 
105 


THE  VALOR  OF   BRINLEY 

doesn't  know  it,  but  I  was  in  a  blue  funk 
from  start  to  finish." 

In  which  surmise  Brinley  was  wrong. 
Mrs.  B.  did  know  it,  and  when  two  weeks 
later  Ellen  became  absolutely  impossi 
ble,  and  demanded  a  kitchen-maid  as  the 
perquisite  of  a  twenty-dollar  cook,  Mrs. 
Brinley  didn't  think  of  calling  upon  her 
husband  to  perform  the  function  of  the 
executioner,  but  like  a  brave  woman 
actually  summoned  the  cook  into  her 
presence  and  did  it  herself.  A  less  cour 
ageous  woman  would  have  gone  down 
stairs  into  the  kitchen  to  do  it. 


WILKINS 

IT  was  a  rather  remarkable  affair, 
taken  altogether.  Wilkins  was  not  what 
one  would  call  an  attractive  man,  and 
none  of  the  young  women  of  Dumfries 
Corners  who  had  met  him  had  ever 
manifested  anything  but  a  pronounced 
aversion  to  his  society. 

"I'd  rather  be  a  wall -flower  than 
dance  with  Sam  Wilkins,"  one  of  these 
young  women  had  said.  "  He  not  only 
can't  dance,  but,  what  is  infinitely  worse, 
he  doesn't  know  that  he  can't  dance, 
and  as  for  his  conversation — well,  give 
me  silence." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right  about  that," 
said  another.  "  Whenever  I  see  him 
about  to  waltz  or  two-step,  I  immedi 
ately  remove  myself  from  the  scene,  and 
pray  for  the  girl  he's  dancing  with.  He 
is  a  train-wrecker,  and  the  favorite  rest 
ing-place  for  his  heels  is  on  some  one 
107 


WILKINS 

else's  foot.  I've  heard  that  he  steps  on 
his  own  feet,  too,  he's  so  awkward,  and 
I  hope  he  does  if  it  hurts  him  as  much 
as  he  hurts  me  when  he  steps  on  mine." 

For  Wilkins's  sake  I  am  very  sorry  to 
say  that  this  feeling  towards  him  was  in 
variable.  I  never  cared  much  for  him  my 
self,  but  I  felt  rather  sorry  for  him  when 
I  perceived  the  persistent  snubbing  with 
which  he  was  everywhere  received.  He 
never  seemed  aware  of  it  himself,  hap 
pily,  however,  and  accepted  my  merely 
sympathetic  attentions  with  that  super 
ciliousness  which  always  goes  with  con 
scious  rectitude. 

Conscious  rectitude,  I  think,  was  Wil 
kins  s  trouble.  He  was  good,  and  he  was 
aware  of  it,  but  he  was  not  content  with 
that.  He  wanted  everybody  else  to  be 
good.  I  really  believe  that  Wilkins  could 
have  carried  on  a  Platonic  love  affair 
with  an  auburn-haired  girl  for  ten  weeks 
without  an  effort,  he  was  so  terribly 
good,  which  did  not  at  all  contribute 
to  his  popularity.  A  fellow  who  talks 
about  ritualism  while  walking  in  the 
moonlight  with  a  sentimental  woman, 
doesn't  count  for  much,  and  Wilkins 
was  always  doing  things  like  that.  It 
1 08 


WILKINS 

was  even  whispered  last  winter  when  he 
went  sleigh-riding  with  that  fascinating 
little  widow,  Mrs.  Broughton,  that  he 
let  her  do  the  driving,  clasped  his  own 
hands  in  front  of  him,  and  talked  of 
nothing  but  the  privations  of  the  mis 
sionaries  in  China,  and  never  mentioned 
oysters  or  cold  birds  and  a  bottle. 

"  And  worst  of  all,"  snapped  Mrs. 
Broughton,  "  he  really  seemed  to  enjoy 
it.  I  never  saw  such  a  man  !" 

I  have  mentioned  all  these  details  for 
the  purpose  of  indicating  how  unpopu 
lar  Wilkins  was  and  how  it  was  that  he 
had  become  so,  for  with  this  knowledge 
the  reader  will  share  the  surprise  which 
we  all  felt  when  Wilkins  suddenly  blos 
somed  forth  as  the  most  popular  man  of 
Dumfries  Corners.  It  was  really  a  knock 
down  blow  to  the  most  of  us,  for  while 
we  may  have  been  jealous  on  occasions 
of  each  other,  it  never  occurred  to  any 
of  us  to  be  jealous  of  the  train-wrecker. 

I  didn't  like  it  when  Araminta  smiled 
upon  Harry  Burnham,  but  it  was  not 
injurious  to  my  self-respect  that  she 
should  do  it,  because  Harry  Burnham 
averages  up  as  good  a  fellow  as  I  am, 
and  then  Harry  and  I  could  drown  our 
109 


WILKINS 

differences  in  the  flowing  bowl  later  on. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  Harry's  Fiametta 
cast  side  glances  at  me,  of  course  Harry 
would  be  wroth,  but  he  could  understand 
why  Fiametta  should  be  so  affected  by 
the  twinkle  in  my  eye — an  affection  by 
the  way  which  has  often  got  me  uncon 
sciously  into  trouble — that  she  should 
for  the  moment  forget  herself  and  re 
spond  to  it. 

But  when  Araminta  and  Fiametta  on 
a  sudden,  just  after  the  leap-year  dance, 
wholly,  and,  as  we  thought,  basely,  de 
serted  us  for  that  emblem  of  conscious 
rectitude,  Sam  Wilkins,  a  man  whose  eye 
couldn't  learn  to  twinkle  in  a  thousand 
years,  a  mere  human  iceberg,  then  it 
was  that  we  were  astounded.  Nor  was 
this  secession  limited  to  Araminta  and 
Fiametta.  The  conversion  of  the  girls 
of  Dumfries  Corners  to  Wilkins  was  as 
complete,  as  comprehensive,  as  it  was 
startling  to  the  men.  Jack  Lester,  as 
Bob  Jenks  expressed  it,  was  "  trun  down  " 
by  Daisy  Hawkins,  who  appeared  to  have 
eyes  for  none  but  Wilkins,  while  Bob,  in 
turn,  when  going  to  make  his  usual 
Thursday  evening  call  upon  Miss  Betsy 
Wilson,  discovered  that  Miss  Betsy  had 
iro 


WILKINS 

gone  to  the  University  extension  lecture 
with  the  train-wrecker,  an  act  unprec 
edented,  for  it  had  long  been  the  cus 
tom  for  Bob  to  spend  his  Thursday  even 
ings  at  the  Wilson  mansion,  and,  while 
nothing  had  as  yet  been  announced, 
everybody  in  town  was  getting  his  con 
gratulations  ready  for  Bob  as  soon  as 
that  which  was  understood  became  a 
matter  of  common  knowledge. 

For  a  week  or  two  we  none  of  us  let 
on  that  we  had  observed  the  remarkable 
change  that  had  come  o'er  the  spirit  of 
our  dreams.  Harry  has  always  been  re 
markable  for  his  ability  to  conceal  his  feel 
ings,  and  in  that  respect  I  am  a  good  sec 
ond,  and  except  for  the  fact  that  we  spent 
more  time  at  the  club  playing  pool  no 
body  would  have  suspected  that  we  cared 
whether  Araminta  or  Fiametta  still  loved 
us  or  not.  Besides,  we  each  had  a  feeling 
that  two  could  play  at  this  Wilkins  game, 
and  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  if  Ar 
aminta  could  so  easily  find  a  substitute 
for  me  I,  with  my  twinkle,  could  as 
speedily  replace  her.  That  is  to  say,  I 
felt  that  I  could  create  that  impression 
in  Araminta's  mind,  and  that  was  all  I 
was  after.  I  didn't  really  intend,  how- 
iii 


WILKINS 

ever  easy  it  would  be  to  do  so,  to  create 
a  flutter  of  a  permanent  nature  in  any 
other  woman's  heart — that  is,  not  until  I 
was  sure  that  Araminta  was  lost  to  me 
forever.  After  a  decent  period  of  mourn 
ing  I  might  have  used  my  twinkle  for 
permanent  effect,  but  at  that  moment 
my  only  idea  was  to  show  Araminta  that 
if  one  could  be  fickle,  two  could  be  twice 
as  fickle.  Harry  had  the  same  course  of 
treatment  in  store  for  Fiametta,  and  we 
both  made  a  strong  bid  for  the  company 
of  Mary  Brown,  who,  it  must  be  confessed, 
was  a  charming  girl,  and  stood  second 
in  the  affections  of  every  man  in  Dum 
fries  Corners. 

It  was  the  opportunity  of  Mary  Brown's 
life,  for  even  as  Harry  and  I  had  decided, 
so  had  all  the  other  jilted  swains,  but 
that  curious  girl  either  could  not  or 
would  not  grasp  it.  She,  too,  had  be 
come  a  Wilkinsite,  and  would  have  noth 
ing  to  do  with  any  of  us.  She  declined 
to  attend  the  Beldens's  musicale  with  me, 
and  went  bicycling  with  the  iceberg. 
She  told  Robinson  she  hated  lectures, 
and  went  to  a  stereopticon  show  with 
the  train-wrecker.  All  the  other  men 
met  with  a  similar  rebuff,  and  at  the  last 
112 


WILKINS 

meeting  of  the  Chafing  Dish  Club  she 
capped  the  climax  by  refusing  my  lob 
ster  a  la  Newburg  and  Harry's  oysters 
poulet,  to  have  a  second  helping  to  the 
sole-leather  welsh  rarebit  which  Wilkins 
had  constructed;  Wilkins,  a  rank  outsider, 
who  had  been  asked  to  come  to  the 
meeting  by  every  blessed  girl  in  the 
club,  although  heretofore  he  had  not 
been  considered  as  a  possible  member, 
and  in  fact  had  been  black-balled  by  the 
girls  themselves !  And  when  it  came 
time  for  the  girls  to  go  home,  instead  of 
each  one  being  escorted  by  a  single  male 
member,  Wilkins  corralled  the  whole  lot 
of  them  in  a  huge  omnibus  which  he 
had  hired,  and  drove  off  with  them,  leav 
ing  us  disconsolate.  He  smiled  so  broad 
ly  you  could  see  his  teeth  in  the  dark. 

This,  as  I  have  said,  capped  the  cli 
max. 

"  That  settles  it,"  said  Burnham .  "  I'm 
going  to  New  York  for  a  rest.  These 
Dumfries  Corners  girls  needn't  think 
they're  the  only  women  in  the  world. 
There  are  others." 

"  I'm  going  to  stay  and  stick  it  out," 
said  I.  "  I've  got  my  sister  left.  She'll 
never  succumb  to  the  Wilkins  influence." 
H  113 


WILKINS 

But  alas !  I  leaned  upon  a  broken 
reed.  My  sister  is  a  sensible  girl,  but 
she  is  "literary."  She  had  a  joke  in 
Life  once,  and  since  that  time  she  has 
neglected  almost  everything  but  writing 
and  her  brother.  She  doesn't  neglect 
me,  and  altogether  I'm  glad  she  writes, 
since  it  fills  her  with  enthusiasm  until 
the  articles  come  back,  and  up  to  now 
she  had  not  written  poetry.  But,  as  I  say, 
I  leaned  upon  a  broken  reed,  for  when, 
the  next  day,  I  asked  her  what  she  was 
writing,  she  laughed  and  showed  me  a 
sonnet. 

"  Poetry,  eh  ?"  I  said,  disapprovingly, 
as  I  looked  over  her  manuscript. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  modestly.  "A 
sonnet." 

And  I  read,  "  To  S.  W." 

"  Who's  *  S.  W.?' "  I  asked,  with  a  frown, 
although  I  little  suspected  what  her  an 
swer  would  be. 

"  Sam  Wilkins,"  she  replied. 

I  then  realized  the  full  force  of  Caesar's 
"  Et  tu,  Brute  ?"  and  fled. 

Meanwhile  Wilkins  was  becoming  in 
sufferable.  If  Bunthorne  was  an  ass,  he 
was  at  least  clever,  but  this  Wilkins — he 
was  a  whole  drove  of  asses,  and  not  a 
114 


WILKINS 

redeeming  feature  to  the  lot.  He  could 
no  more  account  for  his  sudden  popu 
larity  than  we  could,  but  he  could  not 
help  realizing  it  after  a  week  or  two,  and 
then,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he 
began  to  take  notice.  We  men  all  wanted 
to  thrash  him,  and  I  think  Burnham 
would  have  done  it  if  the  rest  of  us 
hadn't  prevented  him. 

"  He  needed  a  licking  before  this,"  said 
Harry,  "but  now  he's  worse  than  ever. 
It  isn't  conscious  rectitude  now,  it's  tri 
umphant  virtue.  He  makes  me  tired. 
He  was  telling  me  the  other  day  that 
while  girls  might  be  captivated  by  flip 
pant,  superficial,  prancing  dudes  for  a 
while,  in  the  end  solid  worth  would  win, 
and  then  he  went  on  to  say  that  the 
youth  of  modern  times  cultivated  his 
feet  to  the  exclusion  of  his  head,  and 
that  while  he  had,  of  course,  learned 
to  dance,  he  had  not  devoted  all  his 
time  to  it,  and  regarded  it,  after  all,  as 
a  very  minor  sort  of  an  attraction 
as  far  as  women  are  concerned.  *  I 
don't  rely  on  my  dancing,  Burnham,' 
he  said.  '  It's  the  head,  and  the  heart, 
my  boy,  that  triumphs.'  And  when  I 
asked  him  where  he  learned  all  this 


WILKINS 

he  answered,  'from  personal  experi 
ence.'  " 

I  immediately  let  go  of  Burnham. 
"  Go  and  half-lick  him,  Harry,"  said  I. 
"  And  when  you've  done  with  him  pass 
him  over  to  me,  and  I'll  finish  him.  The 
supercilious  ass." 

That  was  the  way  Wilkins  affect 
ed  us. 

The  other  men  took  their  dose  in  dif 
ferent  ways.  Jenks  began  to  drink  a 
little  more  ;  Lester  drank  a  little  less. 
Hicks  didn't  care  much  about  it  one 
way  or  the  other,  and  Wilson  swore  that 
if  Wilkins  came  to  call  on  his  sister 
again  he'd  kick  him  out  of  the  house. 

Six  weeks  rolled  by  thus,  and  finally 
Easter  Sunday  came.  No  mitigation  of 
the  Wilkins  visitation  had  entered  into 
our  lives.  As  the  days  wore  on  the  girls 
became  more  devoted  to  him  than  ever, 
and  he  became  correspondingly  unbear 
able.  The  condescension  with  which 
he  would  treat  his  fellow-men  was  some 
thing  hardly  to  be  tolerated,  and  the 
worst  of  it  was  there  didn't  seem  to  be 
any  way  of  bringing  the  girls  to  terms. 
There  wasn't  anybody  left  for  us  to  flirt 
with  now  that  Mary  Brown  had  gone 
116 


WILKINS 

over  to  the  enemy,  she  who  had  always 
been  willing  to  flirt  with  anybody. 

"There's  only  one  hope,"  said  Jenks. 
"  If  he'll  only  marry  one  of  'em,  the  others 
will  come  back.  He  can't  marry  'em  all, 
thank  Heaven." 

"  Suppose  it  was  Fiametta  he  married  ?" 
said  I. 

"  Or  Araminta  !"  was  his  preposterous 
retort. 

44  He'll  never  do  that,"  said  Lester. 
"  He's  in  clover  now,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  and  the  more  of  an  ass 
he  is  the  more  he'll  like  clover.  He's 
paying  attention  to  the  lot.  He'll  never 
settle  down  to  one.  It's  all  up  with  us — 
unless  he  bankrupts  himself." 

"  He  won't,"  observed  Harry  Burnham. 
"  Conscious  rectitude  won't  do  anything 
like  that.  I'm  going  to  New  York  to 
call  on  an  old  flame,  and  I  advise  the 
rest  of  you  to  do  the  same." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  but  what  you 
are  right,"  said  I,  "  but  Araminta  shall 
have  one  more  chance.  I'm  going  to 
church  to-morrow.  It's  Easter  Sunday, 
and  I'll  offer  to  escort  her  home.  If  she 
says  'yes,'  all  right.  If  she  doesn't,  I'm 
lost  to  her  forever." 
117 


WILKINS 

"  Good  scheme,"  quoth  the  others. 
"  We're  with  you." 

And  that  is  what  we  all  did.  The 
girls  were  all  there,  resplendent  in  new 
bonnets  and  toggery  of  other  sorts,  and 
the  smirking  Wilkins  was  there  too.  He 
passed  the  plate  after  the  sermon,  and 
his  rectitude  shone  out  oleaginously  on 
every  line  of  his  face.  It  was  as  much 
as  I  could  do  to  keep  from  tripping  him 
up  in  the  aisle,  and  sending  him  and  the 
contribution-plate  sprawling.  I  almost 
did  it  when  I  imagined  his  feelings  as 
the  nickels  rattled  down  through  the 
register  into  the  furnace  below,  but  I 
restrained  myself — and  the  killing  glances 
he  threw  into  those  glass  eyes  of  his, 
whenever  he  happened  to  hold  the  plate 
before  one  of  those  Dumfries  girls  !  It 
was  sickening,  and  I  came  near  to  flying 
before  the  close  of  the  service.  The 
others  had  the  same  sensations  and 
temptations,  and  it  is  a  wonder  that 
Wilkins  did  not  meet  with  some  dread 
ful  humiliation  before  he  got  the  col 
lection  back  into  the  chancel.  It  was  a 
terrible  strain  on  us,  and  his  horrid  un 
consciousness  that  he  was  anything  but 
perfect,  and  that  the  rest  of  us  were  any- 
118 


WILKINS 

thing  more  than  so  many  paving  stones 
to  be  walked  on,  was  aggravating  to  a 
degree.  Nothing  unusual  happened, 
however,  and  the  service  came  to  an 
end,  and  with  it  came  to  us  all  another 
surprise,  but  this  time  the  surprise  gave 
Wilkins  a  pain,  and  I  had  a  front  seat 
when  the  blow  was  dealt. 

It  had  occurred  to  the  immaculate 
rival  of  all  the  manhood  of  Dumfries 
Corners  that  he  would  honor  Araminta 
with  his  society  on  the  way  home  from 
church,  and  he  and  I  reached  her  side 
after  service  at  one  and  the  same  mo 
ment. 

"May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  home?"  said  Wilkins,  twirling  his 
mustache  with  a  "  resist  me  if  you  can  " 
smile  on  his  lips. 

"  Don't  let  me  interfere,"  said  I,  dryly, 
and  was  about  to  turn  away. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Wilkins,"  replied 
Araminta,  "  but  Mr.  Smithers  has  al 
ready  asked  me." 

It  was  a  beautiful,  lovely,  sweet  lie.  I 
hadn't  done  anything  of  the  sort,  but 
I'd  meant  to,  of  course,  and  perhaps 
Araminta  had  become  a  mind  reader. 
Wilkins  got  a  little  flushy  around  his 
119 


WILKINS 

cheek-bones,  and  posted  off  to  Fiametta, 
but  she  and  Burnham  were  already  en 
route  and  apparently  reconciled.  So  it 
went  with  all.  Wilkins  was  left.  Even 
my  sister,  who,  lacking  Wilkins,  would 
have  to  walk  home  with  the  minister's 
wife,  declined,  and  the  fall  of  the  great 
man  was  complete.  Mary  Brown  was 
the  only  one  remaining  in  the  field,  and 
when  he  fled  to  her  she  said  she  wasn't 
going  home. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Wilkins,  "let  me 
take  you  to  wherever  you  are  going  ?" 

"  Thank  you,"  returned  Miss  Brown, 
"  I'm  not  going  there  either,"  and  she 
joined  Araminta  and  myself,  much  to 
our  delight,  for  we  have  no  secrets  from 
her.  And  then  it  all  came  out. 

The  girls  had  not  loved  us  less,  or 
Wilkins  more,  but  they  had  resolved  to 
keep  Lent  with  unusual  rigor  this  year. 

They  had  sworn  us  off  and  taken  up  Wil 
kins  for  penance. 

Hard  on  Wilkins? 

Not  a  bit  of  it.  He's  as  conscious  of 
his  rectitude  and  as  unconscious  of  his 
unpopularity  as  ever. 

Only  he  is  a  little  more  outspoken 
about  women  than  he  used  to  be,  and 
120 


WILKINS 


somehow  or  other  he  has  let  it  creep  out 
that  he  "  doesn't  find  them  interesting." 
"  They  can't  even  learn  to  dance  with 
out  tripping  a  fellow  up,"  says  he. 


THE  MAYOR'S  LAMPS 

THK  serpent  had  crept  into  Eden.  The 
Perkins  household  for  ten  years  had  been 
little  less  than  Paradise  to  its  inmates, 
and  then  in  a  single  night  the  reptile  of 
political  ambition  had  dragged  his  slimy 
length  through  those  happy  door-posts 
and  now  sat  grinning  indecently  at  the  in 
scription  over  the  library  mantel,  a  rib 
bon  mosaic  bearing  the  sentiment  "  Here 
Dwells  Content"  let  into  the  tiles  thereof. 

How  it  ever  happened  no  man  know- 
eth,  but  happen  it  did.  Thaddeus  Per 
kins  was  snatched  from  the  arms  of 
Peace  and  plunged  headlong  into  the 
jaws  of  Political  Warfare. 

"  They  want  me  because  they  think 
I'm  strong,"  he  pleaded,  in  extenuation 
of  his  acceptance  of  the  nomination  for 
Mayor  of  his  town. 

"  But  you  ought  to  know  better,"  re 
turned  Mrs.  Perkins,  failing  to  realize 
122 


THE   MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

what  possible  misconstruction  her  lord 
and  master  might  put  upon  the  answer. 
"The  idea  of  your  meddling  in  politics 
when  you've  got  twice  as  much  work  as 
you  can  do  already  !  I  think  it's  aw 
ful  !" 

"  I  didn't  seek  it,"  he  said,  after  hesitat 
ing  a  moment  ;  "  they've — they've  thrust 
it  on  me."  Then  he  tried  to  be  funny. 
"With  me,  public  office  is  a  public 
thrust." 

"  Is  there  any  salary  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Per 
kins,  treating  the  jest  with  the  contempt 
it  merited. 

"  No,"  said  Thaddeus.  "  Not  a  cent ; 
but—" 

"  Not  a  cent !"  cried  Mrs.  Perkins. 
"  And  you  are  going  to  give  up  all  your 
career,  or  at  least  two  years  of  it,  and 
probably  the  best  two  years  of  your  life, 
for—" 

"  Glory,"  said  Thaddeus. 

"  Glory  !  Humph,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins, 
"  I  am  not  aware  that  nations  are  talk 
ing  of  previous  Mayors  of  Dumfries 
Corners.  Mr.  Jiggers's  name  is  not  a 
household  word  outside  of  this  city,  is 
it?" 

Mr.  Jiggers  was  the  gentleman  into 
123 


THE   MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

whose  shoes  Thaddeus  was  seeking  to 
place  his  feet  —  the  incumbent  of  the 
mighty  office  to  which  he  aspired. 

"Who  is  the  present  Lord  Mayor  of 
London  ?"  the  lady  continued. 

"  Haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  mur 
mured  the  standard-bearer  of  the  Demo 
cratic  party,  hopelessly. 

"Or  Berlin,  or  Peking  —  or  even  of 
Chicago  ?"  she  went  on. 

"  What  has  that  got  to  do  with  it  ?"  re 
torted  the  worm,  turning  a  trifle. 

"You  spoke  of  glory — the  glory  of 
being  Mayor  of  Dumfries  Corners,  a  city 
of  30,000  inhabitants.  This  is  going  to 
send  your  name  echoing  from  sea  to  sea, 
reverberating  through  Europe,  and  thun 
dering  down  through  the  ages  to  come  ; 
and  yet  you  admit  that  the  glories  of  the 
Mayors  of  London  with  4,000,000  souls, 
of  Berlin,  Chicago,  and  Peking,  with  mill 
ions  more,  are  so  slight  that  you  can't 
remember  their  names — or  even  to  have 
heard  them,  for  that  matter.  Really, 
Thaddeus,  I  am  surprised  at  you.  What 
you  expect  to  get  out  of  this  besides  ner 
vous  prostration  I  must  confess  I  cannot 
see." 

"Lamps,"  said  Thaddeus,  clutching 
124 


THE   MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

like  a  drowning  man  at  the  one  emolu 
ment  of  the  coveted  office. 

Mrs.  Perkins  gazed  at  her  husband 
anxiously.  The  answer  was  so  unex 
pected  and  seemingly  so  absurd  that  she 
for  a  moment  feared  he  had  lost  his 
mind.  The  notion  that  two  years'  ser 
vice  in  so  important  an  office  as  that  of 
Mayor  of  Dumfries  Corners  received  as 
its  sole  reward  nothing  but  lamps  was  to 
her  mind  impossible. 

"  Is — is  there  anything  the  matter  with 
you,  dear?"  she  asked,  placing  her  hand 
on  his  brow.  "You  don't  seem  feverish." 

"  Feverish  ?"  snapped  the  leader  of  his 
party.  "  Who  said  anything  about  my 
being  feverish  ?" 

"  Nobody,  Teddy  dear;  but  what  you 
said  about  lamps  made  me  think — made 
me  think  your  mind  was  wandering  a 
trifle." 

«  Oh— that !"  laughed  Perkins.  "  No, 
indeed — it's  true.  They  always  give  the 
Mayor  a  pair  of  lamps.  Some  of  them 
are  very  swell,  too.  You  know  those 
wrought-iron  standards  that  Mr.  Berke 
ley  has  in  front  of  his  place  ?" 

"  The  ones  at  the  driveway  entrance, 
on  the  bowlders  ?" 

125 


THE    MAYOR'S   LAMPS 

"Yes." 

"They're  beauties.  I've  always  ad 
mired  those  lamps  very  much." 

"  Well — they  are  the  rewards  of  Mr. 
Berkeley's  political  virtue.  I  paid  for 
them,  and  so  did  all  the  rest  of  the  tax 
payers.  They  are  his  Mayor's  lamps,  and 
if  I'm  elected  I'll  have  a  pair  just  like 
them,  if  I  want  them  like  that." 

"  Oh,  I  do  hope  you'll  get  in,  Teddy," 
said  the  little  woman,  anxiously,  after  a 
reflective  pause.  "  They'd  look  stunning 
on  our  gate-posts." 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  have  them  there," 
said  Thaddeus.  "Jiggers  has  the  right 
idea,  seems  to  me — he's  put  'em  on  the 
newel-posts  of  his  front  porch  steps." 

"  I  don't  suppose  they'd  give  us  the 
money  and  let  us  buy  one  handsome 
cloisonne  lamp  from  Tiffany's,  would 
they  ?"  Mrs.  Perkins  asked. 

"A  cloisonne  lamp  on  a  gate-post?" 
laughed  Perkins. 

"  Of  course  not,"  rejoined  the  lady. 
"You  know  I  didn't  mean  any  such 
thing.  I  saw  a  perfectly  beautiful  lamp 
in  Tiffany's  last  Wednesday,  and  it  would 
go  so  well  in  the  parlor — " 

"  That  wouldn't  be  possible,  my  dear," 
126 


THE   MAYOR'S   LAMPS 

said  Thaddeus,  still  smiling.  "You  don't 
quite  catch  the  idea  of  those  lamps. 
They're  sort  of  like  the  red,  white,  and 
blue  lights  in  a  drug-store  window  in  in 
tention.  They  are  put  up  to  show  the 
public  that  that  is  where  a  political  pre 
scription  for  the  body  politic  may  be 
compounded.  The  public  is  responsible 
for  the  bills,  and  the  public  expects  to 
use  what  little  light  can  be  extracted 
from  them." 

"  Then  all  this  generosity  on  the  pub 
lic's  part  is — " 

"  Merely  that  of  the  Indian  who  gives 
and  takes  back,"  said  Thaddeus. 

"And  they  must  be  out-of-doors?" 
asked  Mrs.  Perkins.  "  If  I  set  the  cloi 
sonne  lamp  in  the  window,  it  wouldn't 
do?" 

"No,"  said  Thaddeus.  "They  must 
be  out-of-doors." 

"Well,  I  hope  the  nasty  old  public 
will  stay  there  too,  and  not  come  traips 
ing  all  over  my  house,"  snapped  Mrs. 
Perkins,  indignantly. 

And  then  for  a  little  time  the  discus 
sion  of  the  Mayor's  lamps  stopped. 

The  campaign  went  on,  and  Thaddeus 
night  after  night  was  forced  to  go  out 
127 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

to  speak  here  and  there  and  everywhere. 
One  night  he  travelled  five  miles  through 
mud  and  rain  to  address  an  organiza 
tion  of  tax-payers,  and  found  them  as 
sembled  before  the  long  mahogany 
counter  of  a  beer-saloon,  which  was  the 
"  Hall "  they  had  secured  for  the  recep 
tion  of  the  idol  of  their  hopes ;  and 
among  them  it  is  safe  to  say  there  was 
not  one  who  ever  saw  a  tax-bill,  and  not 
many  who  knew  more  about  those  lux 
uries  of  life  than  the  delicious  flunky, 
immortalized  by  Mr.  Punch,  who  says 
to  a  brother  flunky,  "I  say,  Tummas, 
wot  is  taxes?"  And  he  told  them  his 
principles  and  promised  to  do  his  best 
for  them,  and  bade  them  good-night, 
and  went  away  leaving  them  parched 
and  dry  and  downcast.  And  then  the 
other  fellow  came,  and  won  their  hearts 
and  "  set  them  up  again."  Another  night 
he  attended  another  meeting  and  lost  a 
number  of  friends  because  he  shone  at 
both  ends  but  not  in  the  middle.  If  he 
had  taken  a  glittering  coin  or  two  from 
his  vest-pocket  on  behalf  of  the  noble 
working-men  there  assembled  in  great 
numbers  and  spirituous  mood,  they 
would  have  forgiven  him  his  wit  and 
128 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

patent-leather  shoes — and  so  it  went. 
Perkins  was  nightly  hauled  hither  and 
yon  by  the  man  he  called  his  "  Hagen- 
beck,"  the  manager  of  the  wild  animal 
he  felt  himself  gradually  degenerating 
into,  and  his  wife  and  home  and  chil 
dren  saw  less  of  him  than  of  the  unim 
portant  floating  voter  whose  mind  was 
open  to  conviction,  but  could  be  reached 
only  by  way  of  the  throat. 

"  Two  o'clock  last  night ;  one  o'clock 
the  night  before  ;  I  suppose  it  '11  be  three 
before  you  are  in  to-night  ?"  Mrs.  Per 
kins  said,  ruefully. 

"  I  do  not  know,  my  dear,"  replied 
Thaddeus.  "There  are  five  meetings 
on  for  to-night/' 

"  Well,  I  think  they  ought  to  give  you 
the  lamps  now,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins.  "  It 
seems  to  me  this  is  when  you  need  them 
most." 

"  True,"  said  Thaddeus,  sadly,  for  in 
his  secret  soul  he  was  beginning  to  be 
afraid  he  would  be  elected  ;  and  now  that 
he  saw  what  kind  of  people  Mayors  have 
to  associate  with,  the  glory  of  it  did  not 
seem  to  be  worth  the  cost.  "  Tm  a  sort 
of  Night-Mayor  just  at  present,  and  those 
lamps  would  come  in  handy  in  the  wee 
i  129 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

sma'  hours,"  he  groaned.  And  then  he 
sighed  and  pined  for  the  peaceful  days 
of  yore  when  he  was  content  to  walk  his 
ways  with  no  nation  upon  his  shoul 
ders. 

"I  never  envied  Atlas  anyhow,"  he 
confided  to  himself  later,  as  he  tossed 
about  upon  his  bed  and  called  himself 
names.  "  It  always  seemed  to  me  that 
this  revolving  globe  must  rub  the  skin 
off  his  neck  and  back  ;  but  now,  poor 
devil,  with  just  one  municipality  hang 
ing  over  me,  I  can  appreciate  more  than 
ever  the  difficulties  of  his  position — ex 
cept  that  he  doesn't  have  to  make 
speeches  to  *  tax-payers.'  Humph  !  Tax 
payers!  It's  tax-makers.  If  I'd  prom 
ised  to  go  into  all  sorts  of  wilderness 
improvement  for  the  sole  and  only  pur 
pose  of  putting  these  *  tax-payers '  on 
the  corporation  at  the  expense  of  real 
laboring-men,  I'd  win  in  a  canter." 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Thaddeus  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Perkins,  coming  in  from  the  other 
room.  "Can't  you  sleep?" 

"  Don't  want  to  sleep,  my  dear,"  re 
turned  the  candidate.  "  When  I  go  to 
sleep  I  dream  I'm  addressing  mass-meet 
ings.  I  can't  enjoy  my  rest  unless  I 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

stay  awake.  Did  your  mother  come  to 
day  ?" 

"  Yes — and,  oh,  she's  so  enthusiastic, 
Teddy  !" 

"At  last!  About  me?  You  don't 
mean  it." 

"No  —  about  the  lamps.  She  says 
lamps  are  just  what  we  need  to  com 
plete  the  entrance.  She  thinks  Mr. 
Berkeley's  scheme  of  putting  them  on 
the  stone  posts  is  the  best.  There's 
more  dignity  about  it.  Putting  them 
on  the  piazza  steps,  she  says,  looks  os 
tentatious,  and  suggests  a  beer-saloon 
or  a  road-house." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  that's  about  all  poli 
tics  seems  to  amount  to,"  said  the  re 
former.  "If  those  lamps  are  to  be  a 
souvenir  of  the  campaign,  they  ought  to 
suggest  road-houses  and  beer-saloons." 

"  They  will  not  be  souvenirs  of  a  cam 
paign,"  replied  Mrs.  Perkins,  proudly. 
"  They  will  be  the  outward  and  visible 
sign  of  my  husband's  merit ;  the  em 
blem  of  victory." 

"  The  red  badge  of  triumph,  eh  ?" 
smiled  the  candidate,  wanly.  "Well, 
my  dear,  have  them  where  you  please, 
and  keep  them  well  filled  with  alcohol, 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

even  if  they  do  burn  gas.  They'll  rep 
resent  the  tax-payers  when  they  get 
that." 

"You  musn't  get  so  tired,  Thaddeus 
dear,"  said  the  little  woman,  smoothing" 
his  forehead  soothingly  with  her  hand. 
"You  seem  unusually  tired  to-night." 

"  I  am,"  said  Thaddeus,  shortly.  "  The 
debate  wore  me  out." 

"  Did  you  debate  ?  I  thought  you 
said  you  wouldn't." 

"  Well,  I  did.  Everybody  said  I  was 
afraid  to  meet  Captain  Raskins  on  the 
platform,  so  we  had  it  out  to-night  over 
in  the  Tenth  Ward.  I  talked  for  sixty- 
eight  minutes,  gave  'em  my  views,  and 
then  he  got  up." 

"What  did  he  say.  Could  he  answer 
you?" 

"No  —  but  he  won  the  day.  All  he 
said  was:  'Well,  boys,  I'm  not  much  of 
a  talker,  but  I'll  say  one  thing — Perkins, 
while  my  adversary,  is  still  my  friend, 
and  I'm  proud  of  him.  Now,  if  you'll 
all  join  me  at  the  bar,  we'll  drink  his 
health — on  me.'  "  Thaddeus  paused,  and 
then  he  added:  "I  imagine  they're  cheer 
ing  yet ;  at  any  rate,  if  I  have  as  much 
health  as  they  drink — on  Haskins — I'll 
132 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

double  discount  old  Methuselah  in  the 
matter  of  years." 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  the 
pale  and  nervous  standard-bearer  was 
affectionately  greeted  by  his. mother-in- 
law. 

"  I've  been  thinking  about  those  lamps 
all  night,"  she  said,  after  a  few  minutes. 
"  The  trouble  about  the  gate-posts  is 
that  you  have  three  gate-posts  and  only 
two  lamps." 

"  Maybe  they'd  let  us  buy  three  lamps 
instead  of  two,"  suggested  Mrs.  Perkins. 

"  Well,  we  won't,  even  if  they  do  let 
us,"  observed  Perkins,  with  some  irrita 
tion.  He  had  just  received  a  newspaper 
from  a  kind  friend  in  Massachusetts  with 
a  comic  biography  and  dissipated  wood 
cut  of  himself  in  it.  "  I'm  not  starting 
a  concert-hall,  and  I'm  not  going  to  put 
a  row  of  lamps  along  the  front  of  my 
place." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  replied  his 
mother-in-law.  "  It  occurred  to  me  we 
might  put  them,  like  hanging  lanterns, 
on  each  of  the  chimneys.  It  would  be 
odd." 

Thaddeus  muttered  two  syllables  to 
himself,  the  latter  of  which  sounded  like 
133 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

M'dodd,  but  exactly  what  it  was  he  said 
I  can  only  guess.  Then  he  added : 
"They  won't  go  there.  I  can't  get  a 
gas -pipe  up  through  those  chimneys. 
It's  as  much  as  we  can  do  to  get  the 
smoke  up,  much  less  a  gas-pipe.  Even 
if  we  got  the  gas -pipe  through,  it 
wouldn't  do.  A  putty -blower  would 
choke  up  the  flues." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  mother- 
in-law,  placidly.  "  It  seems  to  me — " 

A  glance  from  Mrs.  Perkins  stopped 
the  dear  old  lady.  I  think  Mrs.  Per 
kins's  sympathetic  disposition  taught  her 
that  her  husband  was  having  a  hard 
time  being  agreeable,  and  that  further 
discussion  of  the  lamp  question  was 
likely  to  prove  disastrous. 

Thaddeus  was  soon  called  for  by  his 
manager,  and  started  out  to  meet  the 
leading  lights  of  the  Hungarian  and 
Italian  quarters.  The  Germans  had 
been  made  solid  the  day  before,  and  as 
for  the  Irish,  they  were  supposed  to  be 
with  Perkins  on  principle,  because  Per 
kins  was  not  in  accord  politically  with 
the  existing  administration. 

"  It's  too  bad  he's  so  nervous,"  said 
his  mother-in-law,  as  he  went  out. 
134 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

"  They  say  women  are  nervous,  but  I 
must  say  I  don't  think  much  of  the  en 
durance  of  men.  How  absurd  he  was 
when  he  spoke  of  the  gas-pipe  through 
the  chimney  !" 

"  Well,  I  suppose,  my  dear  mother," 
said  Mrs.  Perkins,  sadly — "  I  suppose  he 
can't  be  bothered  with  little  details  like 
the  lamps  now.  There  are  other  ques 
tions  to  be  considered." 

"  What  is  the  exact  issue  ?"  asked  the 
mother-in-law,  interestedly. 

"Well — the  tariff,  and — ah — and  tax 
es,  and — ah — money,  and  —  ah  —  ah  —  I 
think  the  saloon  question  enters  in  some 
how.  I  believe  Mr.  Raskins  wants  more 
of  them,  and  Thaddeus  says  there  are 
too  many  of  them  as  it  is.  And  now 
they  are  both  investigating  them,  I 
fancy,  because  Teddy  was  in  one  the 
other  day." 

"  We  ought  to  help  him  a  little,"  said 
the  elder  woman.  "  Let's  just  relieve 
him  of  the  whole  lamp  question  ;  decide 
where  to  put  them,  go  to  New  York  and 
pick  them  out,  get  estimates  for  the  lay 
ing  of  the  pipes,  and  surprise  him  by 
having  them  all  ready  to  put  up  the  day 
after  election." 

135 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

"Wouldn't  it  be  fun  !"  cried  Mrs.  Per 
kins,  delightedly.  "  He'll  be  so  surprised 
— poor  dear  boy.  I'll  do  it.  I'll  send 
down  this  morning  for  Mr.  O'Hara  to 
come  up  here  and  see  how  we  can  make 
the  connection  and  where  the  trenches 
for  the  pipes  can  be  laid.  Mr.  O'Hara 
is  the  best -known  contractor  in  town, 
and  I  guess  he's  the  man  we  want." 

And  immediately  O'Hara  was  tele 
phoned  for  to  come  up  to  Mr.  Perkins's, 
and  the  fair  conspirators  were  not  aware 
of,  and  probably  will  never  realize,  the 
importance  politically  of  that  act.  Mr. 
O'Hara  refused  to  come,  but  it  was  hint 
ed  about  that  Perkins  had  summoned 
him,  and  there  was  great  joy  among  the 
rank  and  file,  and  woe  among  the  better 
elements,  for  O'Hara  was  a  boss,  and  a 
boss  whose  power  was  one  of  the  things 
Thaddeus  was  trying  to  break,  and  the 
cohorts  fancied  that  the  apostle  of  pu 
rity  had  realized  that  without  O'Hara  re 
form  was  fallen  into  the  pit.  Further 
more,  as  cities  of  the  third  class,  like 
Dumfries  Corners,  live  conversationally 
on  rumors  and  gossipings,  it  was  not  an 
hour  before  almost  all  Dumfries  Cor 
ners,  except  Thaddeus  Perkins  himself 
136 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

and  his  manager,  knew  that  the  idol  had 
bowed  before  the  boss's  hat,  and  that 
the  boss  had  returned  the  grand  mes 
sage  that  he'd  see  Perkins  in  the  Hud 
son  River  before  he'd  go  to  his  damned 
mugwump  temple ;  and  in  two  hours 
they  also  knew  it,  for  they  heard  in  no 
uncertain  terms  from  the  secretary  of 
the  Municipal  Club,  a  reform  organiza 
tion,  which  had  been  instrumental  in 
securing  Perkins's  nomination,  who  de 
manded  to  know  in  an  explicit  yes  or 
no  as  to  whether  any  such  message  had 
been  sent.  The  denial  was  made,  and 
then  the  lie  was  given  ;  and  many  to 
this  day  wonder  exactly  where  the  truth 
lay.  At  any  rate,  votes  were  lost  and 
few  gained,  and  many  a  worthy  friend 
of  good  government  lost  heart  and  be 
moaned  the  degeneration  of  the  gentle 
man  into  the  politician. 

Perkins,  worn  out,  irritated  by,  if  not 
angry  at,  what  he  termed  the  under 
handed  lying  of  the  opposition,  drove 
home  for  luncheon,  and  found  his  wife 
and  her  mother  in  a  state  of  high  dud 
geon.  They  had  been  insulted. 

"It  was  frightful  the  language  that 
man  used,  Thaddeus,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins. 
137 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

"  He  wouldn't  have  dared  do  it  except 
by  telephone,"  put  in  the  mother-in-law, 
whose  notions  were  somewhat  old-fash 
ioned.  "  I've  always  hated  that  machine. 
People  can  lie  to  you  and  you  can't  look 
'em  in  the  eye  over  it,  and  they  can  say 
things  to  your  face  with  absolute  oppor 
tunity." 

The  dear  old  lady  meant  impunity, 
but  it  must  be  remembered  that  she  was 
excited. 

"Well,  I  think  he  ought  to  be  chas 
tised,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins. 

"  Who  ?  What  are  you  talking  about  ?" 
demanded  Thaddeus. 

"  That  nasty  O'Hara  man,"  said  Mrs. 
Perkins.  "He  said  'he'd  be  damned' 
over  the  wire." 

Thaddeus  immediately  became  ener 
getic.  "  He  didn't  blackguard  you,  did 
he  ?"  he  demanded. 

"  Yes,  he  did,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins,  the 
water  in  her  eyes  affecting  her  voice  so 
that  it  became  mellifluous  instead  of 
merely  melodious. 

"But  how?"  persisted  Perkins. 

"  Well — we — we — rang  him  up — it  was 
only  as  a  surprise,  you  know,  dear — we 
rang  him  up — " 

138 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

"You — you  rang  up — O'Hara?"  cried 
Perkins,  aghast.  "  It  must  have  been  a 
surprise." 

"  Yes,  Teddy.  We  were  going  to  set 
tle  the  lamp  question  ;  we  thought  you 
were  bothered  enough  with — well,  with 
affairs  of  state — " 

The  candidate  drew  up  proudly,  but 
immediately  became  limp  again  as  he 
realized  the  situation. 

"And,"  Mrs.  Perkins  continued,  "we 
thought  we'd  relieve  you  of  the  lamp 
question  ;  and  as  Mr.  O'Hara  is  a  great 
contractor — the  most  noted  in  all  Dum 
fries  Corners — isn't  he  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes  !  he  is  !"  said  Perkins, 
furiously  ;  "  but  what  of  that  ?" 

"Well,  that's  why  we  rang  him  up," 
said  Mrs.  Perkins,  with  a  sigh  of  relief 
to  find  that  she  had  selected  the  right 
man.  "We  wanted  Mr.  O'Hara  to  dig 
the  trench  for  the  pipes,  and  lay  the 
pipes—" 

"  He's  a  great  pipe-layer  !"  ejaculated 
Perkins. 

"Exactly,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Perkins,  sol 
emnly.  "We'd  heard  that,  and  so  we 
asked  him  to  come  up." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  cried  Perkins,  dis- 
139 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

mayed,  "you  didn't  tell  him  you  wanted 
him  to  put  up  my  lamps?  I'm  not  elect 
ed  yet." 

The  agony  of  the  moment  for  Perkins 
can  be  better  imagined  than  portrayed. 

"  He  didn't  give  us  the  chance,"  said 
the  mother-in-law.  "  He  merely  swore." 

Perkins  drew  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  un 
derstood  it  all  now,  and  in  spite  of  the 
position  in  which  he  was  placed  he  was 
glad.  "Jove!"  he  said  to  himself,  "it 
was  a  narrow  escape.  Suppose  O'Hara 
had  come  !  He'd  have  enjoyed  laying 
pipes  for  a  Mayor's  lamps  for  me — two 
weeks  before  election." 

And  for  the  first  time  in  weeks  Per 
kins  was  faintly  mirthful.  The  narrow 
ness  of  his  escape  had  made  him  hyster 
ical,  and  he  actually  indulged  in  the  lux 
ury  of  a  nervous  laugh. 

"That  accounts  for  the  rumor,"  he 
said  to  himself,  and  then  his  heart  grew 
heavy  again.  "  The  rumor  is  true,  and — 
Oh,  well,  this  is  what  I  get  for  dabbling 
in  politics.  If  I  ever  get  out  of  this 
alive,  I  vow  by  all  the  gods  politics  shall 
know  me  no  more." 

"It  was  all  right — my  asking  O'Hara, 
Thaddeus  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Perkins. 
140 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

"  Oh  yes,  certainly,  my  dear — perfectly 
right.  O'Hara  is  indeed,  as  you  thought, 
the  most  noted,  not  to  say  notorious, 
contractor  in  town,  only  he's  not  laying 
pipes  just  now.  He's  pulling  wires." 

"  For  telephones,  I  presume  ?"  said  the 
old  lady,  placidly. 

"Well,  in  a  way,"  replied  Thaddeus. 
"  There's  a  great  deal  of  vocality  about 
O'Hara's  wires.  But,  Bess,"  he  added, 
seriously,  "just  drop  the  lamps  until  we 
get  'em,  and  confine  your  telephoning  to 
your  intimate  friends.  An  Irishman  on 
a  telephone  in  political  times  is  apt  to 
be  a  trifle — er — artless  in  his  choice  of 
words.  If  you  must  talk'to  one  of  'em, 
remember  to  put  in  the  lightning  plug 
before  you  begin." 

With  which  injunction  the  candidate 
departed  to  address  the  Mohawks,  an 
independent  political  organization  in  the 
Second  Ward,  which  was  made  up  of 
thinking  men  who  never  indorsed  a  can 
didate  without  knowing  why,  and  rarely 
before  three  o'clock  of  the  afternoon  of 
election  day  at  that,  by  whom  he  was  re 
ceived  with  cheers  and  back-slapping 
and  button  -  holings  which  convinced 
him  that  he  was  the  most  popular  man 
141 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

on  earth,  though  on  election  day — but 
election  day  has  yet  to  be  described.  It 
came,  and  with  it  there  came  to  Perkins 
a  feeling  very  much  like  that  which  the 
small  boy  experiences  on  the  day  before 
Christmas.  He  has  been  good  for  two 
months,  and  he  knows  that  to-morrow 
the  period  of  probation  will  be  over  and 
he  can  be  as  bad  as  he  pleases  again  for 
a  little  while  anyhow. 

"  However  it  turns  out,  I  can  tell  'em 
all  to  go  to  the  devil  to-morrow,"  chuc 
kled  Thaddeus,  rubbing  his  hands  glee 
fully. 

"  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  forget  the 
lamps,  Thaddeus,"  observed  the  mother- 
in-law  at  breakfast.  "  Here  it  is  election 
day  and  you  haven't  yet  decided  where 
they  shall  go.  Now  I  really  think — " 

"  Never  mind  the  lamps,"  returned 
Thaddeus.  "  Let's  talk  of  ballot  -  boxes 
to  -  day.  To  -  morrow  we  can  place  the 
lamps." 

"Very  well,  if  you  say  so,"  said  the  old 
lady ;  "  only  I  marvel  at  you  latter-day 
boys.  In  my  young  days  a  small  matter 
like  that  would  have  been  settled  long 
ago." 

"  Well,  I'll  compromise  with  you,"  said 
142 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

Thaddeus.  "We  won't  wait  until  to 
morrow.  I'll  decide  the  question  to-night 
— I'm  really  too  busy  now  to  think  of 
them." 

"I  shall  be  glad  when  we  don't  have  to 
think  about  'em  at  all,"  sighed  Mrs.  Per 
kins,  pouring  out  the  candidate's  coffee. 
"They've  really  been  a  care  to  me.  I 
don't  like  the  idea  of  putting  them  on 
the  porch,  or  on  the  gate-posts  either. 
They'll  have  to  be  kept  clean,  and  good 
ness  knows  I  can't  ask  the  girls  to  go 
out  in  the  middle  of  winter  to  clean 
them  if  they  are  on  the  gate-posts." 

"Mike  will  clean  them,"  said  Thad 
deus. 

Mrs.  Perkins  sniffed  when  Mike's 
name  was  mentioned.  "  I  doubt  it,"  she 
said.  "  He's  been  lots  of  good  for  two 
weeks." 

"  Mike  has  been  lots  of  good  for  two 
weeks,"  echoed  Thaddeus,  enthusiasti 
cally.  "  He's  kept  all  the  hired  men  in 
line,  my  dear." 

"  I've  no  doubt  he's  been  of  use  politi 
cally,  but  from  a  domestic  point  of  view 
he's  been  awful.  He's  been  drunk  for 
the  last  week." 

"  Well,  my  love,"  said  the  candidate, 
H3 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

despairingly,  "some  member  of  the  fam 
ily  had  to  be  drunk  for  the  last  week, 
and  I'd  rather  it  was  Mike  than  you  or 
any  of  the  children.  Mike's  geniality  has 
shed  a  radiance  about  me  among  the 
hired  men  of  this  town  that  fills  me  with 
pride." 

"  I  don't  see,  to  go  back  to  what  I 
said  in  the  very  beginning,  why  we  can't 
have  the  lamps  in-doors,"  returned  Mrs. 
Perkins. 

"  I  told  you  why  not,  my  dear,"  said 
Perkins.  "They  are  the  perquisite  of 
the  Mayor,  but  for  the  benefit  of  the  pub 
lic,  because  the  public  pays  for  them." 

"And  hasn't  the  public,  as  you  call  it, 
taken  possession  of  the  inside  of  your 
house  ?"  demanded  the  mother  -  in  -  law. 
"  I  found  seven  gentlemen  sitting  in  the 
white  and  gold  parlor  only  last  night, 
and  they  hadn't  wiped  their  feet  either." 

"  You  don't  understand,"  faltered  the 
standard-bearer.  "That  business  isn't 
permanent.  To-morrow  I'll  tell  them  to 
go  round  to  the  back  door  and  ask  the 
cook." 

"Humph!"  said  the  mother-in-law. 
"  I'm  surprised  at  you.  Fora  few  paltry 
votes  you — " 

144 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

Just  here  the  front  door  bell  rang, 
and  the  business  of  the  day  beginning 
stopped  the  conversation,  which  bade 
fair  to  become  unpleasant. 

Night  came.  The  votes  were  being 
counted,  and  at  six  o'clock  Perkins  was 
informed  that  everything  was  going  his 
way. 

"Get  your  place  ready  for  a  brass  band 
and  a  serenade,"  his  manager  telephoned. 

"  I  sha'n't !"  ejaculated  the  candidate 
to  himself,  his  old-time  independence 
asserting  itself  now  that  the  polls  were 
closed  —  and  he  was  right.  He  didn't 
have  to.  The  band  did  not  play  in  his 
front  yard,  for  at  eight  o'clock  the  tide 
that  had  set  in  strong  for  Perkins  turned. 
At  ten,  according  to  votes  that  had  been 
counted,  things  were  about  even,  and  the 
ladies*retired.  At  twelve  Perkins  turned 
out  the  gas. 

"  That  settles  the  lamp  question,  any 
how,"  he  whispered  to  himself  as  he 
went  up-stairs,  and  then  he  went  into 
Mrs.  Perkins's  room. 

"Well,  Bess,"  he  said,  "it's  all  over, 
and  I've  made  up  my  mind  as  to  where 
the  lamps  are  to  go." 
K  145 


THE    MAYOR'S    LAMPS 

"  Good  !"  said  the  little  woman.  "  On 
the  gate-posts  ?" 

"  No,  dear.  In  the  parlor — the  cloi 
sonne  lamps  from  Tiffany's." 

"Why,  I  thought  you  said  we 
couldn't — " 

"  Well,  we  can.  Our  lamps  can  go  in 
there  whether  the  public  likes  it  or  not. 
We  are  emancipated." 

"  But  I  don't  understand,"  began  Mrs. 
Perkins. 

"  Oh,  it's  simple,"  said  Thaddeus,  with 
a  sigh  of  mingled  relief  and  chagrin. 
"  It's  simple  enough.  The  other  lamps 
are  to  be  put — er — on  Captain  Haskins's 
place." 


THE   BALANCE   OF   POWER 

IT  was  a  pleasant  night  in  the  spring 
of  189-. 

The  residents  of  Dumfries  Corners 
were  enjoying  an  early  spring,  and  suf 
fering  from  the  demoralizing  influences 
of  a  municipal  election.  Incidentally 
Mr.  Thaddeus  Perkins,  candidate,  was 
beginning  to  feel  very  much  like  Moses 
when  he  saw  the  promised  land  afar. 
The  promised  land  was  now  in  plain 
sight ;  but  whether  or  not  the  name  of 
Perkins  should  be  inscribed  in  one  of  its 
high  places  depended  upon  the  voters 
who  on  the  morrow  were  to  let  their  bal 
lots  express  their  choice  as  to  who  should 
preside  over  the  interests  of  the  city  and 
hold  in  check  the  fiery,  untamed  alder 
men  of  Dumfries  Corners. 

The  candidate  was  tired,  very  tired, 
and  was  trying  to  gain  a  few  hours'  rest 
before  plunging. again  and  for  the  last 
U7 


THE  BALANCE  OF   POWER 

time  into  the  whirlpool  of  vote-getting  ; 
and  as  he  sat  enjoying  a  few  moments 
of  blissful  ease  behind  the  close-drawn 
portieres  of  his  library  there  came  the 
much-dreaded  sound  of  heavy  feet  upon 
the  porch  without,  and  the  door-bell 
rang. 

"  Norah  !"  cried  the  candidate,  in  an 
agonized  stage-whisper,  as  the  maid  ap 
proached  in  answer  to  the  summons, 
"  tell  them  I'm  out,  unless  it's  some  one 
of  my  personal  friends." 

"  Yis,  sorr,"  was  the  answer.  "  Oi  will." 

And  the  door  was  opened. 

"  Is  Misther  Perkins  in  ?"  came  a  deep, 
unmistakably  "voting"  voice  from  with 
out. 

"Oi  dun'no'.  Are  yees  a  personal 
friend  of  Misther  Perkins  ?"  was  the  re 
sponse,  and  the  heart  of  the  listening 
Perkins  sought  his  boots. 

"  Oi  am  not,  but — "  said  the  deep 
voice. 

"  Thin  he  isn't  in,"  said  Norah,  posi 
tively. 

"When  '11  he  be  back?"  asked  the 
visitor,  huskily. 

"  Ye  say  ye  niver  met  him  ?"  demand 
ed  Norah. 

148 


THE    BALANCE   OF   POWER 

"  Oi  told  ye  oi  hadn't,"  said  the  visitor, 
a  trifle  irritably.  "  But — " 

"  Thin  he'll  niver  be  back,"  put  in  the 
glorious  Norah,  and  she  shut  the  door 
with  considerable  force  and  retired. 

For  a  moment  the  candidate  was  over 
come  ;  first  he  paled,  but  then  catching 
Mrs.  Perkins's  eye  and  noting  a  twinkle 
of  amusement  therein,  he  yielded  to  his 
emotions  and  roared  with  laughter. 
What  if  Norah's  manner  was  unconven 
tional  ?  Had  she  not  carried  out  instruc 
tions? 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  candidate  to  Mrs. 
Perkins,  as  the  shuffling  feet  on  the 
porch  shuffled  off  into  the  night,  "  what 
wages  do  you  pay  Norah  ?" 

"  Sixteen  dollars,  Thaddeus,"  was  the 
answer.  "  Why  ?" 

"Make  it  twenty  hereafter,"  replied 
the  candidate.  "  She  is  an  emerald  be 
yond  price.  If  I  had  only  let  her  meet 
the  nominating  committee  when  they 
entered  our  little  Eden  three  weeks  ago, 
I  should  not  now  be  involved  in  this 
wretched  game  of  politics." 

"  Well,  I  sincerely  wish  you  had,"  Mrs. 
Perkins  observed,  heartily.  "  This  affair 
has  made  a  very  different  man  of  you, 
149 


THE   BALANCE   OF    POWER 

and  as  for  your  family,  they  hardly  see 
you  any  more.  You  are  neglecting 
every  single  household  duty  for  your 
horrid  old  politics." 

"Well,  now,  my  dear — "  began  the 
candidate. 

"  The  pipes  in  the  laundry  have  been 
leaking  for  four  days  now,  and  yet  you 
won't  send  for  a  plumber,  or  even  let  me 
send  for  one,"  continued  Mrs.  Perkins. 

"Well,  Bessie  dear,  how  can  I?  The 
race  is  awfully  close.  It  wouldn't  sur 
prise  me  if  the  majority  either  way  was 
less  than  a  hundred." 

"There  you  go  again,  Thaddeus. 
What  on  earth  has  the  leak  in  the  laun 
dry  pipes  to  do  with  the  political  situa 
tion  ?"  asked  the  puzzled  woman. 

The  candidate  showed  that  in  spite  of 
his  recent  affiliations  he  still  retained 
some  remnant  of  his  former  self-respect, 
for  he  blushed  as  he  thought  of  the  ex 
planation  ;  but  he  tried  nevertheless  to 
shuffle  out  of  it. 

"  Of  course  you  can't  understand,"  he 
said,  with  a  cowardly  resolve  to  shirk 
the  issue.  "  That's  because  you  are  a 
woman,  Bess.  Women  don't  understand 
great  political  questions.  And  what  I 
150 


THE    BALANCE    OF    POWER 

have  particularly  liked  about  you  is  that 
you  never  pretended  that  you  did." 

"Well,  I'd  like  to  know,"  persisted 
Mrs.  Perkins.  "  I  want  to  be  of  as  much 
assistance  to  my  husband  in  his  work  as 
I  can,  and  if  public  questions  are  here 
after  to  be  the  problems  of  your  life, 
they  must  become  my  problems  too. 
Besides,  my  curiosity  is  really  aroused 
in  this  especial  case,  and  I'd  love  to 
know  what  bearing  our  calling  a  plumb 
er  has  upon  the  tariff,  or  the  money 
question,  or  any  other  thing  in  politics." 

The  candidate  hesitated.  He  was  cor 
nered,  and  he  did  not  exactly  like  the 
prospect. 

"Well—"  he  began.  "You  see,  I'm 
standing  as  the  representative  of  a  great 
party,  and  we — we  naturally  wish  to  win. 
If  I  am  defeated,  every  one  will  say  that 
it  is  a  rebuke  to  the  administration  at 
Washington  ;  and  so,  you  see,  we'd  bet 
ter  let  those  leaks  leak  until  day  after  to 
morrow,  when  the  voting  will  all  be  over." 

Mrs.  Perkins  looked  at  her  husband 
narrowly. 

"  I  think  I'll  have  to  call  the  doctor," 
was  her  comment.  "  Either  for  you  or 
for  myself,  Teddy.  One  of  us  is  gone — 


THE    BALANCE   OF    POWER 

wholly  gone,  mentally.  There's  no 
question  about  it,  either  you  are  ram 
bling  in  your  speech,  or  I  have  entirely 
lost  all  comprehension  of  the  English 
language." 

"  I  don't  see — "  began  Perkins. 

"  Neither  do  I,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Per 
kins  ;  "and  I  hardly  hope  to.  You've 
explained  and  explained,  but  how  a 
plumber's  calling  here  to  fix  a  laundry 
leak  is  to  rebuke  the  administration  at 
Washington  is  still  far  beyond  me." 

"  But  the  plumbers  are  said  to  hold 
the  balance  of  power  !"  cried  the  candi 
date.  "There  are  a  hundred  of  them 
here  in  Dumfries  Corners,  and  each  one 
controls  at  least  five  assistants,  which 
makes  six  hundred  voters  in  all.  If  I 
call  in  one,  he  and  his  five  workers  will 
vote  for  me,  but  the  other  five  hundred 
and  ninety-four  will  vote  for  Haskins  ; 
and  if  they  do,  the  administration  might 
as  well  go  out  of  business.  Can't  you 
see  ?  It's  the  same  with  the  dandelions. 
These  spring  elections  are  perfect — ah 
—Gehenna  for  a  candidate  if  it  happens 
to  be  an  early  spring  like  this." 

Perkins's  voice  had  the  suggestion  of 
a  wail  in  it  as  he  spoke  of  the  dande- 
152 


THE   BALANCE  OF   POWER 

lions,  and  his  wife's  alarm  grew  upon 
her.  She  understood  now  about  the 
plumber,  but  his  interjection  of  the 
dandelions  had  brought  a  fearful  doubt 
into  her  heart.  Surely  he  was  losing  his 
mind. 

"Dandelions,  Thaddeus  ?"  she  echoed, 
aghast. 

"  Yes,  dandelions,"  retorted  the  candi 
date,  forcibly.  "  They've  queered  me  as 
much  as  anything.  The  neighbors  say 
I'm  not  a  good  neighbor  because  I  don't 
have  them  pulled.  Mike's  been  so  thor 
oughly  alcoholic  all  through  the  fight, 
looking  after  my  interests,  that  he  can't 
pull  them  ;  and  if  I  hire  two  men  to 
come  and  do  the  work,  seven  hundred 
other  men  will  want  to  know  why  they 
didn't  get  a  chance." 

"  But  why  not  employ  boys  ?"  de 
manded  Mrs.  Perkins. 

"  And  be  set  down  as  an  advocate  of 
cheap  child  labor?  Not  I  !"  cried  Per 
kins. 

"  Then  the  dandelion-pullers  are  anoth 
er  balance  of  power,  are  they?"  asked 
Mrs.  Perkins,  beginning  to  grow  some 
what  easier  in  her  mind  as  to  her  hus 
band's  sanity. 

153 


THE    BALANCE   OF    POWER 

"  Precisely  ;  you  have  a  very  remark 
able  gift  of  insight,  Bess,"  answered  the 
candidate. 

"  And  how  many  balances  of  power 
are  there  ?"  demanded  the  lady. 

"  The  Lord  only  knows,"  sighed  Per 
kins.  "  I've  made  about  eighty  of  'em 
solid  already,  but  as  soon  as  one  balance 
is  fixed  a  thousand  others  rise  up  like 
Banquo's  ghost,  and  will  not  down.  I 
haven't  a  doubt  that  it  was  a  balance  of 
power  that  Norah  just  turned  away  from 
the  front  door.  They  strike  you  every 
where.  Why,  even  Bobbie  ruined  me 
with  one  of  them  in  the  Eighth  Ward 
the  other  day  —  one  solidified  balance 
wiped  out  in  a  moment  by  my  interest 
ing  son." 

"Bobbie?"  cried  Mrs.  Perkins.  "A 
six-year-old  boy  ?" 

"Exactly  —  Bobbie,  the  six -year -old 
boy.  I  wish  you'd  keep  the  children  in 
the  house  until  this  infernal  business  is 
over.  The  Eighth  Ward  would  have 
elected  me ;  but  Bobbie  ruined  that," 
said  Perkins,  ruefully. 

"  But  how  ?"  cried  Mrs.  Perkins.  "  Have 
our  children  been  out  making  campaign 
speeches  for  the  other  side?" 
'54 


THE   BALANCE    OF    POWER 

"  They  have,"  assented  Perkins.  "  They 
have  indeed.  You  remember  that  man 
Jorrigan  ?" 

"The  striker?"  queried  Mrs.  Perkins, 
calling  to  mind  a  burly  combination  of 
red  hair  and  bad  manners  who  had  made 
himself  very  conspicuous  of  late. 

"Precisely.  That's  just  the  point," 
retorted  Perkins.  "  The  striker.  That's 
what  he  is,  and  it's  what  you  call  him." 

"  But  you  said  he  was  a  striker  at 
breakfast  last  Wednesday,"  said  Mrs. 
Perkins.  "We  simply  take  your  word 
for  it." 

"  I  know  I  did.  He's  also  a  balance 
of  power,  my  dear.  Jorrigan  controls 
the  Eighth  Ward.  That's  the  only  rea 
son  I've  let  him  in  the  house,"  said  Thad- 
deus. 

"  You've  been  very  chummy  with  him, 
I  must  say,"  sniffed  Mrs.  Perkins. 

"Well,  I've  had  to  be,"  said  the  candi 
date.  "  That  man  is  a  power,  and  he 
knows  it." 

"What's  his  business?"  asked  Mrs. 
Perkins. 

"  Interference  between  capital  and  la 
bor,"  replied  Perkins.  "  So  I've  culti 
vated  him." 

155 


THE    BALANCE    OF    POWER 

"  He  never  struck  me  as  being  a  very 
cultivated  person,"  smiled  Mrs.  Perkins. 
"  He  has  a  suggestion  of  alcohol  about 
him  that  is  very  oppressive." 

"  I  know — he  has  a  very  intoxicating 
presence,"  said  the  candidate,  joining  in 
the  smile.  "  But  we  are  rid  of  his  pres 
ence  now  and  forever,  thanks  to  Bobbie. 
I  got  the  news  last  night.  He  and  his 
followers  have  declared  for  Haskins,  in 
spite  of  all  his  promises  to  me,  and  we 
can  attribute  our  personal  good  fortune 
and  our  political  loss  to  Bobbie.  Bobbie 
met  him  on  the  street  the  other  day." 

"  I  know  he  did,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins. 
"  He  told  me  so,  and  he  said  that  the 
horrid  man  wanted  to  kiss  him." 

"It's  true,"  said  Perkins.  "He  did, 
and  Bobbie  wouldn't  let  him." 

"Well,  a  man  isn't  going  back  on  you 
because  he  can't  kiss  your  whole  family, 
is  he  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Perkins,  apprehen 
sively.  "  If  that's  the  situation,  I  shall 
go  to  New  York  to-morrow." 

Perkins  laughed  heartily.  "  No,  my 
dear,"  he  said.  "  You  are  safe  enough 
from  that.  But  Jorrigan,  when  Bobbie 
refused,  said,  *  Well,  young  feller,  I  guess 
you  don't  know  who  I  am  ?'  *  Yes,  I  do,' 
156 


THE   BALANCE    OF  POWER 

said  Bobbie.  *  You  are  Mr.  Jorrigan,' 
and  Jorrigan  was  overjoyed  ;  but  Bobbie 
destroyed  his  good  work  by  adding, 
< Jorrigan  the  striker,'  and  the  striker's 
joy  vanished.  'Who  told  you  that?' 
said  he.  'Pop  —  and  he  knows,'  said 
Bobbie.  That  night,"  continued  Per 
kins,  with  a  droll  expression  of  mingled 
mirth  and  annoyance,  "  the  amalgamat 
ed  mortar-mixers  of  the  Eighth  Ward 
decided  that  consideration  for  the  coun 
try's  welfare  should  rise  above  partisan 
politics,  and  that  when  it  came  to  real 
statesmanship  Haskins  could  give  me 
points.  A  ward  wiped  out  in  a  night, 
and  another  highly  interesting,  very 
thirsty  balance  of  power  gone  over  to 
the  other  side." 

"  I  should  think  you'd  give  up,  then," 
said  Mrs.  Perkins,  despairfully.  She  want 
ed  her  husband  to  win — not  because  she 
had  any  ambition  to  shine  as  "  Lady- 
Mayor,"  but  because  she  did  not  wish 
Thaddeus  to  incur  disappointment  or 
undergo  the  chagrin  of  a  public  rebuke. 
"  You  seem  to  be  losing  balances  of  pow 
er  right  and  left." 

"  Why  should  I  give  it  up  ?"  queried 
Perkins.  "  You  don't  suppose  I  am  hav- 
157 


THE    BALANCE   OF    POWER 

ing  any  better  luck  than  Mr.  Haskins, 
do  you  ?" 

"  Is  he  losing  them  too  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Perkins,  hopefully. 

"I  judge  so  from  what  he  tells  me," 
said  Perkins.  "  We  took  dinner  together 
at  the  Centurion  in  New  York  the  other 
night,  and  he's  a  prince  of  good  fellows, 
Bess.  He  has  just  as  much  trouble  as  I 
have,  and  when  I  met  him  on  the  train 
the  other  day  he  was  as  blue  as  I  about 
the  future." 

"You  and  the  captain  dining  together?" 
ejaculated  Mrs.  Perkins. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Perkins.  "  Why  not  ? 
Our  hatred  is  merely  political,  and  we 
can  meet  on  a  level  of  good-fellowship 
anywhere  outside  of  Dumfries  Corners." 

Mrs.  Perkins  laughed  outright.  "  Isn't 
it  funny  !"  she  said. 

"Why,  Haskins  is  one  of  my  best 
friends,  generally,"  continued  Perkins. 
"  I  don't  see  anything  funny  about  it. 
Just  because  we  both  happen  to  be 
dragged  into  politics  on  opposite  sides 
at  the  same  moment  is  no  reason  why 
we  should  begin  cutting  each  other's 
throats,  my  dear.  In  fact,  with  balances 
of  power  springing  up  all  over  town  like 
158 


THE   BALANCE  OF   POWER 

mushrooms,  we  have  become  compan 
ions  in  misery." 

"Well,  I  don't  see  why  you  can't  get 
together,  then,  and  tell  these  balances  to 
go  to  —  to  grass,"  suggested  Mrs.  Per 
kins. 

"  Grass  is  too  mild,  my  love,"  remarked 
the  candidate,  smiling  quietly.  "They 
wouldn't  go  there,  even  if  we  told  them 
to,  so  it  would  be  simply  a  waste  of 
breath.  We've  got  to  grin  and  bear 
them  until  the  polls  close,  and  then  we 
can  pitch  in  and  tell  'em  what  we  think 
of  them." 

"Just  the  same,"  continued  Mrs.  Per 
kins,  "an  agreement  between  Mr.  Has- 
kins  and  you  to  ignore  these  people 
utterly,  instead  of  taking  them  into  your 
family,  would  stop  the  whole  abuse." 

"  That's  a  woman's  idea,"  said  Perkins, 
bravely,  though  in  the  innermost  recesses 
of  his  heart  he  wished  he  had  thought 
of  it  before.  "  It  isn't  practical  politics, 
my  love.  You  might  as  well  say  that 
two  opposing  generals  in  a  war  could 
save  thousands  of  lives  by  avoiding 
each  other's  armies  and  keeping  out  of  a 
fight." 

"Well,  I  do  say  that,"  replied  Mrs. 
159 


THE   BALANCE  OF   POWER 

Perkins,  positively.    "  That's  exactly  my 
view  of  what  generals  ought  to  do." 

"And  what  would  become  of  the 
war?"  queried  the  candidate. 

"There  wouldn't  be  any,"  said  the 
good  little  woman. 

"  Precisely,"  retorted  Perkins.  "  Pre 
cisely.  And  if  Haskins  and  I  did  what 
you  want  us  to  do,  there  would  be  no 
more  politics." 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Perkins.  "Are  politics  the  salvation  of 
the  country  ?  It's  as  bad  as  war." 

"  Humph !"  grunted  Perkins.  "  It  is  dif 
ficult  to  please  women.  You  hate  war 
because,  to  settle  a  question  of  right,  peo 
ple  go  out  into  the  field  of  battle  and  mow 
each  other  down  with  guns ;  you  cry  for 
arbitration.  Let  all  questions,  all  dif 
ferences  of  opinion,  be  settled  by  a  resort 
to  reason,  say  you — which  is  beautiful, 
and  undoubtedly  proper.  But  when  we 
try  to  settle  our  differences  by  a  blood 
less  warfare,  in  which  the  ballot  is  one's 
ammunition,  you  cry  down  with  politics. 
A  political  contest  is  nothing  but  a  bit 
of  supreme  arbitration,  for  which  you 
peace  people  are  always  clamoring,  by 
the  court  of  last  resort,  the  people.'* 
160 


THE   BALANCE  OF   POWER 

Mrs.  Perkins  smiled  sweetly,  and  tak 
ing  her  husband's  hand  in  hers,  stroked 
it  softly. 

"  Teddy  dear,  you  mustn't  be  so  politic 
with  me,"  she  said;  "I'm-  not  a  cam 
paign  club.  I  know  that  sentiment  you 
have  just  expressed  is  lofty  and  noble, 
and  ought  to  be  true,  and  I  know  we 
used  to  think  it  was  true — three  weeks 
ago  I  believed  it  when  you  said  it ;  but 
this  is  now,  dear.  This  is  to-night,  not 
three  weeks  ago,  and  I  have  changed  my 
mind." 

"  Well,"  began  the  candidate,  hesitat 
ingly,  "  I  don't  know  but  that  I  am 
weakening  a  trifle  myself." 

"I  know,"  interposed  Mrs.  Perkins, 
"you  are  weakening.  You  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  the  hard  work  you  are  doing 
is  not  in  appealing  to  the  reason  of  the 
supreme  court  of  arbitration,  the  people. 
You  are  appealing,  as  you  have  said 
yourself,  to  a  large  and  interesting  va 
riety  of  balances  of  power,  that  do  not 
want  your  views  or  your  opinions  or 
your  arguments,  but  they  do  want  your 
money  to  buy  cigars  and  beer  with. 
They  want  you  to  buy  their  good- will ; 
and  even  if  you  bought  it,  I  doubt  if 
L  161 


THE   BALANCE  OF   POWER 

they  would  concede  to  you  a  controlling 
interest  in  it  if  Mr.  Haskins  should  hap 
pen  to  want  some  of  it,  and  I  don't  doubt 
he  does." 

"You  don't  know  anything  — "  the 
candidate  ventured. 

"Yes  I  do,  too,"  returned  Mrs.  Perkins, 
with  the  self-satisfied  nod  which  the  aver 
age  new  woman  gives  when  she  thinks 
she  is  right,  though  Mrs.  Perkins  had  no 
pretensions  in  that  direction,  happily  for 
her  family.  "  I  know  all  that  you  have 
told  me.  I  know  that  when  you  were  to 
dine  at  Colonel  Buckley's  on  Wednesday 
night  you  wore  your  evening  dress,  and 
that  when  leaving  there  early  to  go  to 
the  city  and  address  the  Mohawk  Inde 
pendent  Club  you  asked  your  manager  if 
you  could  go  dressed  as  you  were,  and 
his  answer  was,  '  Not  on  your  life,'  and 
you  went  home  and  put  on  your  business 
suit.  You  told  me  that  yourself,  and  yet 
you  talk  about  the  supreme  court  of 
arbitration,  the  people  !" 

"  But,  Bess,  the  Mohawks  are  a  power 
ful  organization,"  pleaded  Perkins.  "I 
couldn't  afford  to  offend  them." 

"  No.  It  was  the  first  balance  of  power 
that  turned  up.  I  remember  it  well.  It 
162 


THE   BALANCE  OF   POWER 

was  to  be  convinced  by  arguments.  You 
were  going  down  there  to  discuss  princi 
ples,  but  you  couldn't  appeal  to  their  ju 
dicial  minds  or  reach  their  reason  unless 
you  changed  your  clothes  ;  and  when 
you  got  there  as  their  guest,  and  vent 
ured  to  ask  for  a  glass  of  Vichy  before 
you  spoke,  do  you  remember  what  they 
brought  you  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Perkins, 
warming  up  to  her  subject. 

The  candidate  smiled  faintly.  "  Yes," 
he  answered.  "  Beer." 

"  Exactly  ;  and  when  he  gave  you  the 
beer,  that  MacHenty  man  whispered  in 
your  ear,  *  Drink  that ;  it  '11  go  better 
wid  the  byes.' " 

"  He  did,"  said  Thaddeus,  meekly. 

"  And  yet  you  talk  about  this  appeal  to 
a  reasonable  balance  of  power  !  Really, 
Teddy,  you  are  becoming  demoralized. 
Politics,  as  I  see  it,  is  an  appeal  to  thirst, 
and  nothing  else." 

"  *  You  never  miss  the  voter  till  the 
keg  runs  dry,'  "  sang  the  candidate,  with 
a  more  or  less  successful  attempt  at 
gayety.  "But  never  mind,  Bess.  I've  had 
enough,  and  if  I'm  beaten  this  time  I'll 
never  do  it  again.  So  don't  worry  ;  and, 
after  all,  this  is  only  a  municipal  election. 
163 


THE   BALANCE  OF   POWER 

The  difference  between  a  grand  inspiring 
massive  war  for  principle  and  a  street 
riot.  The  supreme  court  of  arbitration, 
the  people,  can  be  relied  on  to  do  the  right 
thing  in  the  end.  They  are  sane.  They 
are  honest.  They  are  not  all  thirsty,  and 
in  this  as  in  all  contests  the  blatant  at 
tract  the  most  attention.  The  barker  at 
the  door  of  the  side  show  to  the  circus 
makes  more  noise  than  the  eight-headed 
boy  that  makes  the  mare  go." 

"  You're  a  trifle  mixed  in  your  meta 
phors,  Teddy,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins. 

"Well  who  wouldn't  be,  after  a  three 
weeks'  appeal  to  an  arid  waste  of  voters  ?" 

"A  waste  of  arid  voters,"  amended 
Mrs.  Perkins. 

"  The  amendment  is  accepted,"  laugh 
ed  Thaddeus.  And  at  that  moment  a 
telephone  call  from  headquarters  sum 
moned  him  abroad. 

"  Good  -  night,  Bess,"  he  said,  kissing 
his  wife  affectionately.  "  This  is  the  last 
night." 

"  Good-night,  Teddy ;  I  hope  it  is. 
And  next  time  when  they  ask  you  to 
run— " 

"  You  shall  be  the  balance  of  power, 
and  decide  the  question  for  me,"  said  the 
164 


THE   BALANCE   OF   POWER 

candidate,  as,  with  sorrow  in  his  heart, 
he  left  his  home  to  seek  out  what  he 
called  "the  branch  office  of  Hades," 
political  headquarters,  where  were  gath 
ered  some  fifty  persons,  most  of  whom 
began  life  in  other  countries,  under  dif 
ferent  skies,  and  to  whom  the  national 
anthem  "America"  meant  less  and 
aroused  fewer  sentiments  worth  having 
than  that  attractive  two-step  "  St.  Pat 
rick's  Day  in  the  Morning,"  and  who 
were  yet  sufficiently  powerful  with  the 
various  "balances  "of  the  town  to  hold 
its  political  destinies  in  their  itching 
palms. 

Two  months  after  this  discussion  the 
late  Honorable  Thaddeus  Perkins,  ex- 
candidate,  and  Mayor  of  Dumfries  Cor 
ners  only  by  courtesy  of  those  who  honor 
defeated  candidates  with  titles  for  which 
they  have  striven  unsuccessfully,  was 
strolling  through  the  country  along  the 
line  of  the  Croton  Aqueduct,  trying  to 
disentangle,  with  the  aid  of  the  fresh 
sweet  air  of  an  early  summer  afternoon, 
an  idea  for  a  sonnet  from  the  mazes  ot 
his  brain.  Stopping  for  a  moment  to 
look  down  upon  the  glorious  Hudson 
165 


THE   BALANCE    OF    POWER 

stretching  its  shimmering  length  like  a 
bimetallic  serpent  to  the  north  and  south, 
he  suddenly  became  conscious  of  a  pair 
of  very  sharp  eyes  resting  upon  him, 
which  a  closer  inspection  showed  be 
longed  to  a  laborer  of  seemingly  diminu 
tive  stature,  who  was  engaged  in  carry 
ing  earth  in  a  wheelbarrow  from  one 
dirt-pile  to  another.  As  Thaddeus  caught 
his  eye  the  laborer  assumed  towering 
proportions.  He  rose  up  quite  two  feet 
higher  in  the  air  and  bowed. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?"  said  Perkins,  re 
turning  the  salutation  courteously,  won 
dering  the  while  as  to  what  might  be  the 
cause  of  this  sudden  change  of  height. 

"  Oi'm  well — which  is  nothin'  new  to 
me,"  replied  the  other.  "  Ut  sheems  to 
me,"  he  continued,  "  thot  youse  resimbles 
thot  smart  young  felly  Perkins,  the  Mayor 
of  Dumfries  Corners — not !" 

Perkins  laughed.  The  sting  of  defeat 
had  lost  its  power  to  annoy,  and  his  ex 
perience  had  become  merely  one  of  a 
thousand  other  nightmares  of  the  past. 

"  Do  I  ?"  he  replied,  resolving  not  to 
confess  his  identity,  for  the  moment  at 
least. 

"  Only  thinner,"  chuckled  the  laborer, 
1 66 


THE   BALANCE   OF   POWER 

shrinking  up  again  ;  and  Perkins  now 
saw  that  the  legs  of  his  new  acquaintance 
were  of  an  abnormally  unequal  length, 
which  forced  him  every  time  he  shifted 
his  weight  from  one  foot  to  the  other  to 
change  his  apparent  height  to  a  startling 
degree.  "An'  a  gude  dale  thinner,"  he 
repeated.  "  There's  nothin'  loike  polithi- 
cal  exersoize  to  take  off  th'  flesh,  parthic- 
ularly  when  ye  miss  ut." 

"I  fancy  you  are  right,"  said  Perkins. 
"  I  never  met  Mr.  Perkins — that  is,  face 
to  face — myself.  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

The  Irishman  threw  his  head  back  and 
laughed. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  oi'm  'not  wan  uv  his 
pershonal  fri'nds.  But  oi  know  um  when 
oi  see  um,"  and  he  looked  Thaddeus 
straight  in  the  eye  as  he  grew  tall  again. 

"  I'm  sure  it  is  Perkins's  loss,"  returned 
Thaddeus,  "that  you  are  not  a  personal 
friend  of  his." 

"It  was,"  said  the  Irishman.  "My 
name  is  Finn,"  he  added,  with  an  air 
which  seemed  to  assume  that  Perkins 
would  begin  to  tremble  at  the  dreaded 
word  ;  but  Perkins  did  not  tremble.  He 
merely  replied, 

"A  very  good  name,  Mr.  Finn." 
167 


THE    BALANCE   OF    POWER 

"  Oi  t'ink  so,"  assented  Mr.  Finn.  "  Ut's 
better  nor  Dinnis,  me  young  fri'nd." 

Perkins  assented  to  this  proposition  as 
though  it  was  merely  general,  and  had 
no  particular  application  to  the  affairs  of 
the  moment.  "  I  suppose,  Mr.  Finn,"  he 
observed,  shortly,  "  that  you  were  one  of 
the  earnest  workers  in  the  late  campaign 
for  Mr.  Perkins  ?" 

"  Was  he  elicted  ?"  asked  Finn,  scorn 
fully. 

"  I  believe  not,"  began  Thaddeus. 
"  But—" 

"  Thot's  me  answer  to  your  quistion, 
sorr,"  said  Finn,  with  dignity.  "  He'd  'a' 
had  lamps  befoor  his  house  now,  sorr,  if 
he  hadn't  been  gay  wid  his  front  dure." 

"  Oh — he  was  gay  with  his  front  door, 
was  he  ?"  asked  Perkins. 

"  He  was  thot,  an'  not  ony  too  careful 
uv  his  windy-shades,"  replied  Finn. 

Perkins  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  Givin'  me,  Mike  Finn,  song  an'  dance 
about  not  bein'  home,  wid  me  fri'nds  out 
side  on  the  lawn  watchin'  him  troo  de 
windy,  laffin'  loike  a  hayeny." 

"  Excuse  me — like  a  what  ?"  said  Thad 
deus. 

"  A  hayeny,"  repeated  Mr.  Finn.  "  Wan 
168 


THE   BALANCE   OF    POWER 

o'  thim  woild  bastes  as  laffs  at  nothin' 
much.  '  Is  he  home  ?'  sez  oi.  l  Are  yees 
a  pershonal  fri'nd  ?'  says  the  gurl.  '  Oi'm 
not/  sez  oi.  '  He  ain't  home,'  says  the 
gurl.  'Whin  '11  he  be  back?'  says  oi. 
*  Niver,'  says  she,  shlammin'  the  dure  in 
me  face  ;  and  Mike  Finn  wid  a  certifikut 
uv  election  for  um  in  his  pocket !" 

"A  certificate  of  election?"  cried  Per 
kins.  "  And  he  wouldn't  see  you  ?" 

"  He  would  not." 

"  You  were  to  an  extent  the  balance  of 
power,  then  ?" 

"  That's  what  oi  was,"  said  Finn,  en 
joying  what  he  thought  was  Perkins's 
dismay ;  for  he  knew  well  enough  to 
whom  he  was  talking.  "  Oi  was  the  rale 
bonyfiday  balance  uv  power.  Oi've  got 
foive  sons,  sorr,  and  ivery  wan  o'  thim 
byes  is  conthracthors,  or,  what's  as  good, 
bosses  uv  gangs  on  public  an'  proivate 
works.  There  ain't  wan  uv  thim  foive 
byes  as  don't  conthrol  twinty-foive  votes, 
an'  there  ain't  wan  uv  'em  as  don't  moind 
what  the  ould  mon  says  to  um.  Not 
wan,  sorr.  An'  they  resints  the  turnin' 
down  uv  their  father." 

"  That's  as  it  should  be,"  said  Perkins. 

"An'  ut's  as  ut  was,  me  young  fri'nd. 
169 


THE    BALANCE   OF    POWER 

Whin  oi  wint  home  to  me  pershonal 
fri'nds  at  th'  Finn  Club,  Misther  Perkins 
had  losht  me.  Wan  gone.  Whin  oi  tould 
the  Finn  "Club,  wan  hundred  sthrong,  he 
losht  thim.  Wan  hundred  and  wan 
gone.  Whin  oi  tould  th'  byes,  he  losht 
thim.  Wan  hundred  an'  six  gone.  An' 
whin  they  tould  their  twinty-foive  apiece, 
ivery  twinty-foive  o'  thim  wint.  Wan 
hundred  an'  six  plus  wan  hundred  an* 
twinty  -  foive  makes  two  hundred  an' 
thirty- wan  votes  losht  at  the  shlammin' 
uv  the  front  dure.  An'  whin  two  hun 
dred  an'  thirty-wan  votes  laves  wan  soide 
minus  an'  the  other  soide  plus,  th'  gineral 
result  is  a  difference  uv  twoice  two  hun 
dred  an'  thirty-wan,  or  foor  hundred  an' 
sixty-two.  D'ye  mind  thot,  sorr  ?" 

"  I  see,"  said  Perkins.  "And  as  this — 
ah — this  particular  candidate  was  beaten 
by  a  bare  majority  of  two  or  three  hun 
dred  votes — " 

"  It  was  me  as  done  it !"  put  in  the  bal 
ance  of  power,  shaking  his  finger  at  Per 
kins  impressively.  "  Me — Mike  Finn  !" 

"  Well,  I  hope  Mr.  Perkins  hears  of  it, 

Mr.  Finn,"  put  in  Thaddeus.     "  I  am  told 

that  he  is  wondering  yet  what  hit  him, 

and  having  put  the  affront  upon  you,  and 

170 


THE   BALANCE    OF   POWER 

through  that  inexcusable  act  lost  the  elec 
tion,  he  ought  to  know  that  you  were  his 
Nemesis." 

"  His  what  ?"  queried  the  real  balance. 

"  His  Nemesis.  Nemesis  is  the  name 
of  a  Greek  goddess,"  exclaimed  Perkins. 

"  Oi'm  no  Greek,  nor  no  goddess,"  re 
torted  Finn,  "  but  I  give  him  the  throw- 
down." 

"  That's  what  I  meant,"  explained 
Thaddeus.  "The  word  has  become  part 
of  the  English  language.  Nemesis  was 
the  Goddess  of  the  Throw-down,  and  the 
word  is  used  to  signify  that." 

"  Oh,  oi  see,"  said  Finn,  scratching  his 
head  reflectively.  Perkins  took  his  reve 
lation  a  trifle  too  calmly.  "  You  say  you 
don't  know  this  Perkins,"  he  asked. 

"  Well,  I  never  met  him,"  said  the  ex- 
candidate,  smiling.  "But  I  know  him." 

Finn  laughed  again.  "  Qi'll  bet  ye  do  ; 
an'  oi  guiss  ye've  seen  his  fa-ace  long 
about  shavin'-toime  in  the  mornin'  in  the 
lukin'-glash — eh  ?" 

"  Well,  yes,"  smiled  Perkins.  "  I  con 
fess  I'm  the  man,  Mr.  Finn  ;  but  now  we 
are — personal  friends — eh  ?  I  was  fagged 
out  that  night,  and — you  didn't  send  in 
your  card,  you  know — and  I  didn't  know 
171 


THE    BALANCE   OF    POWER 

it  was  you."  The  balance  of  power  cast 
down  his  eyes,  and  rubbing  his  hand  on 
his  overalls  as  if  to  clean  it,  stretched  it 
out.  Perkins  grasped  it,  and  Finn  gave 
a  slight  gulp.  He  wasn't  quite  happy. 
The  proffered  friendship  of  the  man  he 
had  helped  to  defeat  rather  upset  him  ; 
but  he  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"  Niver  moind,  sorr,"  he  said,  when  he 
had  quite  recovered.  "  You're  young  yit. 
They've  shoved  yees  out  this  toime,  but 
wait  awhoile.  Yees  '11  be  back." 

"  No,  Mr.  Finn,"  replied  Perkins,  hand 
ing  Finn  a  cigar.  "Thanks  to  you,  I 
got  out  of  a  tight  hole,  and  as  our  maid 
said  to  you  that  night,  I'll  '  niver  be 
back.'  But  if  you  happen  down  my  way 
again,  I'll  be  glad  to  see  you — at  any 
time.  Good-bye." 

The  two  parted,  and  Thaddeus  walked 
home,  thinking  deeply  of  the  far-reach 
ing  effect  in  this  life  of  little  things  ; 
and  as  for  Finn,  he  bit  off  half  the  cigar 
Perkins  had  given  him,  and  as  he  chewed 
upon  it,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  his  bar 
row,  he  remarked  forcibly  to  himself, 
"  Well,  oi'll  be  daamned  !" 


JARLEY'S    EXPERIMENT 

JARLEY  was  an  inventive  genius.  He 
invented  things  for  the  pleasure  of  it 
rather  than  with  any  idea  of  ultimately 
profiting  from  the  results  of  his  ingenu 
ity,  which  may  explain  why  it  was  that 
his  friends  deemed  many  of  his  contriv 
ances  a  sheer  waste  of  time.  Among 
other  things  that  Jarley  invented  was  a 
tennis-racket  which  could  be  folded  up 
and  packed  away  in  a  trunk.  The  fact 
that  any  ordinary  tennis-racket  could 
be  packed  away  in  any  ordinary  trunk 
without  being  folded  up  was  to  Jarley 
no  good  reason  why  he  should  not  de 
vote  his  energies  to  the  production  of 
the  compact  weapon  of  sport  which  he 
called  the  Jarley  Racket.  He  was  after 
novelty,  and  utility  was  always  a  second 
ary  consideration  with  him.  Others  of 
his  inventions  were  somewhat  more 
startling.  "  The  Jarley  Ready  Writing- 
173 


JARLEY'S   EXPERIMENT 

Desk  for  Night  Use,"  for  instance,  was  a 
really  remarkable  conception.  Its  chief 
value  lay  in  the  saving  of  gas  and  mid 
night  oil  to  impecunious  writers  which 
its  use  was  said  to  bring  about,  and  when 
fully  equipped  consisted  simply  of  a 
writing-table  with  all  the  appliances 
and  conveniences  thereof  treated  with 
phosphorus  in  such  a  manner  that  in 
the  blackest  of  darkness  they  could  all 
be  seen  readily.  The  ink  even  was  phos 
phorescent.  The  paper  was  luminous  in 
the  dark.  The  penholders,  pens,  pen-wip 
ers,  mucilage-bottle,  everything,  in  fact, 
that  an  author  really  needs  for  the  pro 
duction  of  literature,  save  ideas,  were  so 
prepared  that  they  could  not  fail  to  be 
visible  to  the  weakest  eye  in  the  dark 
est  night  without  the  aid  of  other  illumi 
nation.  The  chief  trouble  with  the  in 
vention  was  that  in  the  long-run  it  was 
more  expensive  than  gas  or  oil  could 
possibly  be  in  the  most  extravagant 
household  ;  but  that  bothered  Jarley  not 
a  jot.  Nor  was  he  at  all  upset  when  his 
ingenious  Library  Folding -Bed,  com 
prising  a  real  bookcase  and  sofa-couch, 
failed  to  suit  his  practical-minded  friends 
because,  when  turned  down  for  use  as  a 


JARLEY'S   EXPERIMENT 

couch,  all  the  books  in  the  bookcase 
side  of  it  fell  out  upon  the  floor.  His 
arrangement  was  better  than  the  ordi 
nary  folding-bed,  he  said,  because  the 
bookcase  side  of  it  was  not  a  sham,  but 
the  real  thing,  while  that  of  the  folding- 
bed  of  commerce  was  a  delusion  and  a 
snare.  As  a  hater  of  shams  he  justified 
his  invention,  though  of  course  it  couldn't 
be  put  to  much  practical  use  unless  the 
purchaser  was  willing  to  take  his  books 
out  of  the  shelves  when  he  intended 
using  the  piece  of  furniture  for  sleeping 
purposes.  If  the  purchaser  was  too 
lazy  to  do  this  it  was  not  Jarley's  fault, 
so  the  inventor  reasoned,  nor  did  he-  in 
tend  improving  his  machine  in  order  to 
accommodate  the  lazy  man  in  his  pur 
suit  of  a  life  of  indolence. 

When  Jarley  married  he  turned  his 
attention  to  the  devising  of  apparatus 
to  make  domestic  life  less  trying  to  Mrs. 
Jarley.  As  a  bachelor  he  had  contrived 
quite  a  number  of  mechanical  effects 
which  made  his  lonely  life  easier.  He 
had  fitted  up  his  rooms  with  devices 
by  means  of  which,  while  lying  in  bed 
on  cold  mornings,  he  could  light  his  gas- 
stove  without  getting  up  ;  and  his  cigars, 


JARLEY'S   EXPERIMENT 

the  ends  of  which  he  had  dipped  in  sul 
phur,  so  that  they  could  be  lit  by  scratch 
ing  them  on  the  under  side  of  the  man 
tel-piece,  just  as  matches  are  ignited, 
were  the  delight  of  his  life.  Now,  how 
ever,  he  turned  his  mind  towards  helping 
little  Mrs.  Jarley  on  in  the  domestic 
world.  He  prepared  a  chart  by  means 
of  which  the  monotony  of  marketing 
was  done  away  with  entirely.  He  also 
arranged  for  her  a  charming  automatic 
curl-paper  box,  and  drew  up  a  plan  for  a 
patent  pair  of  curling-tongs,  which  could 
be  fastened  to  the  gas-fixture  and  kept 
heated  to  the  degree  required,  so  that  it 
might  be  used  at  a  moment's  notice. 
This  was  provided  with  a  number  of 
movable  ends,  all  different,  in  order  that 
Mrs.  Jarley  could,  if  she  chose,  vary  the 
appearance  of  her  curls  according  to 
her  taste  ;  and  although  the  little  lady 
never  approved  of  it  sufficiently  to  have 
it  made,  it  was  undoubtedly  a  valuable 
contrivance. 

Then  when  Jarley  junior  came  along 
to  delight  the  parent  soul,  self-rocking 
cradles  and  perpetual  reservoirs  for  food 
were  devised,  and  some  of  them  put  into 
actual  use,  though,  as  a  rule,  Mrs.  Jarley 
176 


JARLEY'S   EXPERIMENT 

preferred  the  old-fashioned  methods  to 
which  she  was  by  her  home  training 
more  accustomed. 

The  great  invention  of  Jarley,  how 
ever,  was  the  result  of  his  study  of  Jar- 
ley  junior  as  that  very  charming  and 
exceedingly  agile  child  developed  from 
infancy  into  boyhood.  The  idea  came 
to  him  one  Sunday  afternoon  while  Mrs. 
Jarley  was  at  church.  It  was  the  nurse 
maid's  afternoon  out,  and  Jarley  had  un 
dertaken  to  care  for  Master  Jarley  in 
the  absence  of  his  true  guardians. 

"Well,  Jack,"  he  said  to  his  son,  when 
they  had  been  left  in  sole  possession  of 
the  Jarley  mansion,  "  you  and  I  must 
entertain  each  other  this  afternoon. 
What  shall  we  do  ?" 

"  I'd  like  to  play  choo-choo  car  with 
you,"  said  Jack.  "I'll  be  the  engine 
and  you  be  the  train." 

"Very  well,"  said  Jarley.  "  Have  you 
got  your  steam  up  ?" 

"  Yeth,"  lisped  Jack.     "  All  aboard  !" 

Jarley  hitched  himself  on  to  the  en 
gine  as  best  he  could  by  grabbing  hold 
of  Jack's  little  coat  tail,  and  the  train 
started.  It  was  the  most  tedious  jour 
ney  Jarley  ever  undertook.  The  train 
M  177 


JARLEY'S  EXPERIMENT 

went  up  and  down  stairs,  out  upon  the 
piazza,  and  finally  landed  in  the  kitchen, 
where  the  engine  fired  up  on  such  fuel 
as  gingerbread  and  cookies.  Incident 
ally  the  train,  as  represented  by  Jarley, 
took  on  a  load  of  freight,  consisting  of 
the  same  fuel,  and  off  they  started  again. 
At  the  end  of  a  half-hour's  run  Jarley 
was  worn  out,  but  the  engine  seemed  to 
gather  strength  and  speed  the  farther  it 
travelled ;  and  as  it  let  out  a  fearful 
shriek — possibly  a  whistle — every  time 
the  rear  end  of  the  train  suggested  side 
tracking  and  a  cessation  of  traffic  for  a 
month  or  two,  Jarley  in  his  indulgence 
invariably  withdrew  the  proposition. 
The  consequence  was  that  when  Mrs. 
Jarley  returned  from  church  Jarley  was 
a  wreck,  and  as  he  handed  the  engine 
over  to  the  maternal  care  he  observed 
with  some  testiness  that  in  a  well-kept 
household  it  seemed  to  him  matters 
should  be  so  arranged  that  a  busy  man 
should  not  be  compelled  to  turn  himself 
into  a  child's  nurse,  especially  on  the 
one  day  of  the  week  which  he  could  de 
vote  to  rest  and  relaxation.  "  If  I  had 
that  boy's  energy,"  he  said  to  himself 
as  he  fled  to  his  library,  "  what  wonders 
178 


JARLEY'S   EXPERIMENT 

I  would  accomplish  !  What  a  shame  it 
is,  too,  that  the  wasted  energy  of  youth 
cannot  be  stored  up  in  some  way,  so  that 
when  there  comes  the  real  need  for  it,  it 
can  be  made  available  !" 

This  thought  was  the  germ  of  his  in 
vention.  As  he  lay  there  in  the  library 
he  thought  over  the  possibilities  of  life 
if  the  nervous  force  of  childhood,  the 
misdirected  energy  of  play-time,  could 
only  be  put  by  and  drawn  upon  later 
just  as  man  puts  by  the  money  he  does 
not  need  in  the  present  for  use  in  case 
of  future  rainy  days.  Then,  as  the  sun 
sank  below  the  hills  and  the  twilight 
hours  with  their  inspiring  softness  came 
on,  Jarley  resolved  that  he  was  the  man 
to  whom  had  come  the  mission  which 
should  make  of  this  ideal  a  reality. 
Probably  in  the  full  glare  of  day  he 
would  not  have  undertaken  it ;  but  Jar- 
ley,  in  common  with  most  men  of  dreamy 
nature,  felt  in  the  quiet  dusk  the  power 
to  do  all  things.  He  had  the  poetic 
temperament  which  sometimes  leads  on 
to  great  things,  and  the  man  so  gifted 
who  does  not  feel  himself  capable,  at  that 
hour  of  the  day  of  rest,  of  battering  down 
Gibraltar  or  of  upbuilding  the  whole 
179 


JARLEY'S   EXPERIMENT 

human  race,  must  account  himself  a 
failure. 

"  I'll  do  it,"  he  murmured,  drowsily, 
to  himself,  and  he  did.  How  he  did  it 
was  Jarley's  own  secret,  and  while  he 
confides  many  things  to  me,  this  secret 
he  kept,  and  still  keeps.  All  I  know  is 
that  he  fitted  up  a  play-room  for  Jack 
on  the  attic  floor,  and  by  means  of  an 
apparatus,  the  peculiarities  of  whose  con 
struction  he  alone  knows,  he  managed 
after  a  while  to  store  up  the  superfluous 
energy  which  Jack  expended  upon  every 
thing  that  he  did.  Every  time  Jack 
turned  a  somersault  he  contributed,  un 
known  to  himself,  something  to  the 
growing  bulk  of  hoarded  force  in  the 
reservoir  provided  for  its  reception.  All 
the  strength  necessary  for  the  somer 
sault  was  devoted  to  that  operation. 
The  superfluity  went  to  the  reservoir. 
So,  also,  when  in  his  play  of  scaling  im 
aginary  rocks  after  fictitious  wild  beasts 
he  endeavored  futilely  to  walk  up  the 
play-room  wall,  the  unavailing  energy 
went  to  augment  the  stores  from  which 
Jarley  hoped  to  extract  so  much  that 
would  prove  of  value  to  the  world. 

When  the  reservoir  was  full  the  ques- 
180 


JARLEY'S    EXPERIMENT 

tion  that  confronted  Jarley  was  as  to  the 
value  of  its  contents,  and  to  ascertain 
this  he  resolved  upon  an  experiment 
upon  himself.  No  one  else,  he  believed, 
would  be  willing  to  subject  himself  to 
the  experiment,  nor  did  he  wish  at  that 
time  to  let  others  into  his  secret.  Even 
Mrs.  Jarley  was  not  aware  of  his  efforts, 
and  so  he  made  the  experiment.  He 
liquefied  the  energy  Jack  had  wasted, 
and  upon  retiring  one  night  took  what 
he  considered  to  be  the  proper  dose  for 
the  test.  The  effect  was  remarkable. 

When  he  rose  up  the  next  morning  he 
experienced  a  consciousness  of  power  that 
reminded  him  of  sundry  tales  of  Samson. 
But  there  was  one  drawback.  He  did  not 
seem  quite  able  to  control  himself.  For 
instance,  instead  of  dressing  in  the  usual 
dignified  and  quiet  way,  he  found  him 
self  prancing  about  his  room  like  a 
young  colt,  and  while  he  was  taking  his 
bath  he  had  a  yearning  for  objects  of 
juvenile  virtu  which  had  for  many  years 
been  strangers  to  his  tub.  He  was  not 
at  all  satisfied  with  his  dip  plain  and  un 
adorned,  and  he  had  developed  an  un 
conquerable  aversion  for  soap.  It  was 
all  he  could  do  to  restrain  his  inclina- 
181 


JARLEY'S    EXPERIMENT 

tion  to  call  vociferously  for  a  number 
of  small  tin  boats  and  birch-bark  canoes, 
without  which  Jack  never  bathed.  He 
did  conquer  it,  however,  and  at  the  end 
of  a  half-hour  managed  to  reach  the  end 
of  his  bath,  though  as  a  rule  he  had 
hitherto  rarely  expended  more  than  ten 
minutes  in  his  morning  ablutions.  Then 
came  another  difficulty.  He  found  him 
self  utterly  unable  to  stand  still  while 
he  was  putting  on  his  clothes,  and  finally 
Mrs.  Jarley  had  to  be  called  in  to  comb 
his  hair  for  him.  Jarley  himself  could 
no  more  have  taken  the  time  to  part  it 
satisfactorily  than  he  could  have  flown. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Jarley,  as  she  made  several  ineffect 
ual  attempts  to  get  his  truant  locks  into 
shape.  "  Have  you  caught  St.  Vitus's 
dance  ?" 

"  Nothing's  the  matter  with  me,"  re 
turned  Jarley,  standing  on  one  foot  and 
hopping  up  and  down  thereon.  "  I  feel 
well,  that's  all." 

And  then  he  tore  out  of  the  room, 
mounted  the  banisters,  and  slid  down 
stairs  in  an  utterly  unbecoming  fashion, 
considering  that  he  was  a  man  of  thirty- 
five  and  the  head  of  the  house.  He  felt 
182 


JARLEY'S   EXPERIMENT 

a  little  ashamed  of  himself  in  the  midst 
of  this  operation,  particularly  when  he  ob 
served  that  the  waitress  was  standing  in 
the  hall  below-stairs,  looking  at  him  with 
eyes  that  betokened  an  astonishment  as 
creditable  to  her  as  it  was  disgraceful  to 
him.  He  tried  vainly  to  stop  his  wild 
descent  when  he  noted  her  presence. 
He  clutched  madly  at  the  banisters,  turn 
ing  his  hands  and  knees  into  brakes  in 
his  effort  to  save  his  dignity  ;  but  once 
started  he  could  not  stop,  and  as  a  con 
sequence  he  went  down  like  a  flash,  slid 
precipitately  over  the  newel -post,  and 
landed  with  a  cry  of  mortification  on 
the  hall  floor.  He  was  not  hurt,  save  in 
his  self  -  esteem,  and  gathering  himself 
together,  he  endeavored  to  walk  with 
dignity  into  the  dining-room  ;  but  he 
had  hardly  reached  the  door,  when  he 
was  overcome  with  a  mad  desire  to 
whoop — and  whoop  he  did.  As  a  conse 
quence  of  the  whoop  Jack  was  scolded 
when  Mrs.  Jarley  came  down.  She  had 
no  idea  that  Jarley  himself  could  be  so 
blind  to  propriety  as  to  yell  in  so  inde 
corous  a  fashion  ;  and  when  poor  little 
Jack  was  upbraided,  Jarley,  despite  his 
good  intention  to  confess  himself  the 
183 


JARLEY'S    EXPERIMENT 

guilty  party,  discovered  that  the  only  act 
he  was  capable  of  was  giggling.  Jack 
of  course  wept,  and  the  more  he  wept 
the  more  Jarley  giggled,  and  was  taken 
to  task  for  encouraging  the  boy  in  his 
misbehavior. 

During  breakfast  he  was  unusually 
demonstrative.  He  could  not  bring  him 
self  to  await  his  turn  when  the  potatoes 
were  passed,  and  in  his  eagerness  to  get 
at  them  he  overturned  his  coffee,  which 
served  to  turn  the  tables  a  little,  for  Jack 
giggled  at  the  mishap,  while  Jarley  be 
came  the  centre  of  Mrs.  Jarley's  displeas 
ure.  What  was  worse,  Jarley,  try  as  he 
might,  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
to  kick  the  legs  of  the  table,  and  it  was 
not  until  Mrs.  Jarley  had  threatened  to 
dismiss  Jack  from  her  presence,  sup 
posing  that  he  must,  of  course,  be  the 
offender,  that  Jarley  assumed  the  burden 
of  his  misbehavior. 

It  was  not  until  Jarley  set  out  to  his 
office,  however,  that  he  realized  the  real 
horror  of  his  condition.  Instead  of  riding 
down-town  on  one  cable-car,  as  was  his 
wont,  he  found  himself  trying,  boy-like, 
to  steal  a  ride  by  jumping  on  a  car  plat 
form  and  standing  there  until  the  con- 
184 


JARLEY'S    EXPERIMENT 

ductor  came  along,  when  he  would  hop 
off,  ride  a  block  or  two  on  the  end  of  a 
truck,  and  then  try  a  new  car,  so  beating 
his  way  down-town.  Then  he  arrived  at 
his  office.  I  have  neglected  to  state  that 
while  invention  was  Jarley's  avocation, 
he  was  by  profession  a  lawyer,  being  the 
junior  member  of  a  highly  successful 
firm,  at  the  head  of  which  was  no  less  a 
person  than  the  eminent  William  J. 
Baker,  whose  record  at  the  bar  is  too 
well  known  to  require  any  further  words 
of  mine  to  recall  him  to  the  minds  of 
my  readers.  Jarley  had  not  been  in  the 
office  more  than  ten  minutes  before  he 
realized  that  he  might  better  have  re 
mained  at  home  while  the  influence  of 
Jack's  wasted  energy  was  within  him.  He 
was  in  a  state  of  irrepressibility.  No  mat 
ter  how  strongly  he  endeavored  to  hold 
himself  in  check  he  could  not  do  so,  and 
his  day  down-town  was  like  the  days  of 
most  boys  who  are  permitted  to  spend  a 
morning  and  an  afternoon  with  their 
parent  in  the  workshop.  The  first  thing 
he  did  on  reaching  his  desk  was  to  roll 
back  its  folding  top.  This  pleased  him 
unaccountably.  He  had  never  before 
imagined  that  so  much  fun  could  be  got 
185 


JARLEY'S    EXPERIMENT 

out  of  the  rolling  top  of  a  desk,  and  for 
a  full  quarter  of  an  hour  he  pulled  it 
backward  and  forward,  and  so  noisily 
withal  that  Mr.  Baker  sent  one  of  the 
clerks  in  to  see  if  the  office-boy  had  not 
become  suddenly  insane. 

Recalled  to  his  true  self  for  the  mo 
ment,  Jarley  endeavored  to  get  down  to 
work,  but  as  he  made  the  endeavor  he 
became  conscious  that  a  revolving  chair 
has  very  pleasing  qualities  to  one  who  is 
fond  of  twirling.  Round  and  round  he 
twirled,  and  as  he  twirled  he  grabbed  up 
his  cane,  and  in  a  moment  realized  that 
he  was  playing  that  he  was  on  a  merry- 
go-round,  and  trying  to  secure  a  renewal 
of  his  right  to  ride  by  catching  imagi 
nary  rings  on  the  end  of  his  stick.  This 
operation  consumed  quite  five  minutes 
more  of  his  time,  and  was  accompanied 
by  such  a  vast  number  of  "Hoop-las" 
that  Mr.  Baker  came  himself  to  see  what 
was  the  cause  of  the  unseemly  racket. 
Fortunately  for  Jarley,  just  as  his  part 
ner  reached  the  doorway,  the  chair  had 
reached  the  limit  of  its  twirling  capacity, 
and  having  been  unscrewed  as  far  as  it 
could  be,  toppled  over  on  to  the  floor, 
with  Jarley  underneath. 
1 86 


JARLEY'S    EXPERIMENT 

"What  in  the  world  does  this  mean, 
Jarley?"  said  Mr.  Baker,  severely,  as  he 
assisted  his  fallen  partner  to  rise. 

"  My  chair  has  come  apart,"  laughed 
Jarley,  getting  red  in  the  face. 

"That's  the  great  trouble  with  that 
kind  of  chair,"  said  Mr.  Baker.  "You 
don't  seem  to  mind  the  mishap  very 
much." 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Jarley,  gritting  his  teeth 
in  his  determination  not  to  follow  his 
mad  impulse  to  jump  on  Mr.  Baker's 
shoulders  and  clamor  for  a  picky-back 
ride.  "  No  ;  I  don't  mind  little  things 
like  that  much." 

Here  he  stood  on  his  right  leg,  as  he 
had  done  before  breakfast,  and  began  to 
hop. 

"  Hurt  your  foot?"  queried  Mr.  Baker. 

Jarley  seized  at  the  suggestion  with 
all  the  despairing  vigor  of  a  drowning 
man  clutching  at  a  rope. 

"  Yes ;  a  little,  but  not  enough  to  men 
tion,"  he  said;  whereupon,  much  to  his 
relief,  Mr.  Baker  turned  away  and  went 
back  to  his  own  room. 

"  This  will  never  do,"  Jarley  moaned 
to  himself  when  his  partner  had  gone. 
"  If  one  of  my  clients  should  come  in — " 
187 


JARLEY'S    EXPERIMENT 

Then  he  stopped  and  grinned  like  a 
mischievous  lad.  He  had  caught  sight 
of  an  old  water-meter  that  had  been  used 
as  an  exhibit  in  a  case  he  had  once  tried 
against  the  city  in  behalf  of  an  inventor, 
who  had  been  led  to  believe  that  the 
water  board  would  adopt  his  patent  and 
compel  every  householder  to  buy  one 
for  the  registration  of  water  consumed. 
What  fun  it  would  be  to  take  that 
apart,  he  thought,  and  thinking  thus 
was  enough  to  set  him  about  the  task. 
He.  locked  his  door,  moved  the  strange- 
looking  contrivance  out  into  the  middle 
of  the  room,  and  tried  to  unscrew  the  top 
of  it  with  his  eraser.  The  delicate  blade 
of  this  improvised  screw-driver  snapped 
off  in  an  instant,  whereupon  Jarley  tried 
the  scissors,  with  similar  results.  After 
a  half-hour  of  this  he  gave  up  the  idea 
of  taking  the  meter  apart,  but  his  soul 
immediately  became  possessed  of  an 
other  idea,  which  was  to  see  if  it  worked. 
The  pursuit  of  this  brought  him  the 
most  deliriously  joyful  sensations,  and 
for  an  hour  he  devoted  himself  to  filling 
the  machine  up  with  water  drawn  from 
a  faucet  at  one  side  of  his  room,  and 
poured  into  the  meter  from  a  drinking- 
188 


JARLEY'S   EXPERIMENT 

glass.  It  was  not  until  the  hour  was  up 
that  he  observed  that  the  water  after 
passing  through  the  meter  came  out 
upon  the  carpet,  and  it  is  probable  that 
even  then  he  would  not  have  noticed  it 
had  not  the  tenants  below  sent  up  to  in 
quire  if  there  was  not  something  wrong 
with  the  water-pipes  overhead. 

When  Jarley  realized  what  had  hap 
pened  he  wisely  determined  to  give  up 
business  for  the  day.  While  the  spirit 
of  Jack  was  within  him,  the  business  he 
might  transact  was  not  likely  to  prove 
of  value  to  himself  or  to  any  one  else. 
So  he  put  on  his  hat  and  coat,  called  a 
cab,  and  started  for  home.  His  experi 
ences  in  the  cab  were  quite  of  a  kind 
with  the  experiences  of  the  morning,  and 
attended  with  no  little  personal  danger. 
He  would  lean  against  the  cab  door  and 
put  his  arm  out  and  try  to  touch  horse- 
cars  as  they  passed.  Once  or  twice  he 
nearly  had  his  head  knocked  off  by  stick 
ing  it  out  of  the  windows  ;  but  by  some 
happy  chance  he  got  interested  in  the 
cab  curtains  and  the  inviting  little 
strings,  which,  when  pulled,  made  them 
fly  up  with  a  snap.  Absorbed  in  this 
occupation,  he  drove  on,  and  gave  up  all 
189 


JARLEY'S    EXPERIMENT 

such  dangerous  experiments  as  playing 
tag  with  horse-cars  and  trucks,  and  ar 
rived  at  home  in  time  for  luncheon  un 
hurt. 

Mrs.  Jarley  was  somewhat  alarmed  at 
the  unexpected  return  of  Mr.  Jarley,  but 
was  content  with  his  explanation  that 
while  he  never  felt  better  in  his  life,  he 
deemed  it  best  to  return  and  attend  to 
his  work  in  the  privacy  of  his  own  home. 
For  the  proper  accomplishment  of  this 
work  he  said  that  he  thought  he  would 
use  Jack's  nursery  on  the  attic  floor, 
where  he  could  be  quiet,  and  he  asked 
as  an  especial  favor  that  he  might  be 
left  alone  with  Jack  for  the  balance  of 
the  day. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  his 
experiments,  while  a  success  in  one  way, 
were  not  what  he  expected  in  another 
way.  He  had  found  Jack's  energy  very 
energetic  indeed,  but  not  suited  for 
adult  use,  and  he  even  found  himself 
wondering  why  he  had  not  thought  of 
that  before.  However,  the  thing  to  do 
now  was  to  get  rid  of  that  spirit  as  soon 
as  possible.  If  it  had  become  perma 
nently  a  part  of  him,  he  had  reached  his 
second  childhood,  which  for  a  man  of 
190 


JARLEY'S   EXPERIMENT 

thirty-five  is  a  disturbing  thought.  So 
disturbing  was  it  that  Jarley  resolved 
upon  a  heroic  measure  to  cure  himself. 
Similia  similibus  struck  him  as  being  the 
only  possible  cure,  and  so,  regardless  of 
the  possible  consequences  to  his  physi 
cal  being,  he  "  permitted "  Jack  to  be 
with  him  up-stairs  "  while  he  worked," 
as  he  put  it  to  Mrs.  Jarley,  though  all 
others  were  forbidden  to  approach. 

The  result  was  as  he  had  foreseen. 
Jack's  energy  in  Jack,  pure  and  unadul 
terated,  had  very  little  trouble  in  wear 
ing  out  the  diluted  energy  which  his 
father  had  acquired  from  his  superfluous 
stores,  and  night  coming  on  found  Jar- 
ley,  after  a  three  hours'  steady  circus 
with  his  son,  in  his  normal  condition 
mentally.  But  physically  !  What  a 
poor  wreck  of  a  human  system  was  his 
when  the  last  bit  of  the  boyish  spirit 
was  consumed  !  Had  he  worked  at 
brick  -  laying  for  a  week  without  rest 
Jarley  could  not  have  been  more  pros 
trated  physically.  But  he  was  happy. 
His  tests  had  proved  that  he  could  do 
certain  things,  but  the  results  he  had 
expected  as  to  the  value  of  those  things 
were  not  what  he  had  hoped  for.  At 
191 


JARLEY'S    EXPERIMENT 

any  rate,  his  experiment  gave  him  great 
er  sympathy  with  his  boy  than  he  had 
ever  had  before,  and  they  have  become 
great  chums.  The  greatest  disappoint 
ment  of  the  whole  affair  is  Jack's,  who 
wonders  why  it  is  that  he  and  his  father 
have  no  more  afternoon  acrobatics  such 
as  they  had  in  the  play-room  that  day, 
but  until  he  is  a  good  many  years  older 
his  father  cannot  tell  him,  for  the  boy 
could  not  in  the  present  stage  of  his 
intellectual  development  understand  him 
if  he  tried. 

As  for  Mr.  Baker  and  the  people  at 
the  office,  they  were  not  at  all  astonished 
to  hear  the  next  day  that  Jarley  was  laid 
up,  and  would  probably  not  appear  at 
the  office  again  for  a  week,  although  they 
were  a  little  surprised  when  they  learned 
that  his  trouble  was  rheumatism,  and  not 
softening  of  the  brain. 


JARLEY'S  THANKSGIVING 

JARLEY  was  in  a  blue  mood  the  night 
before  Thanksgiving.  Things  hadn't 
gone  quite  to  suit  him  during  the  year. 
He  had  lost  two  of  his  most  profitable 
clients — men  upon  whom  for  two  years 
previously  he  had  been  able  to  count  for 
a  steady  income.  It  is  true  that  he  had 
lost  them  by  winning  their  respective 
suits,  and  had  made  two  strong  friends 
by  so  doing  ;  but,  as  he  once  put  it  to 
Mrs.  Jarley,  the  worst  position  a  man 
could  possibly  get  himself  into  was  that 
of  one  who  is  long  on  friends  and  short 
on  income.  He  did  not  underestimate 
the  value  of  friends,  but  he  didn't  want 
too  many  of  them  ;  because  beyond  a 
certain  number  they  became  luxuries 
rather  than  necessities,  and  his  financial 
condition  was  such  that  he  could  not 
afford  luxuries. 

"I    love   them    all,"  he    said,    "but    I 

N  I93 


JARLEY'S    THANKSGIVING 

haven't  money  enough  to  entertain  a 
quarter  of  them.  The  last  time  Billie 
Hicks  was  up  here  he  smoked  sixteen 
Invincible  cigars.  Now,  I  am  very  fond 
of  Billie  Hicks,  but  with  cigars  at  twenty 
cents  apiece  I  can't  afford  him  more 
than  one  Sunday  in  a  year.  He's  get 
ting  a  little  cold  because  I  haven't  asked 
him  up  since." 

"  Why  don't  you  buy  cheaper  cigars  ? 
At  our  grocery  store  they  have  some  very 
nice  looking  ones  at  two  for  five  cents," 
suggested  Mrs.  Jarley. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  have  to  move  out  of 
the  house,"  said  Jarley. 

Mrs.  Jarley  failed  to  see  the  connec 
tion. 

"Very  likely  you  don't,"  said  Jarley  ; 
"  but  if  I  smoked  one  of  your  two-and-a- 
half-cent  grocery  cigars  in  this  house, 
you'd  see  the  point  in  a  minute.  If  you 
will  get  me  a  yard  of  cotton  cloth,  and 
let  me  put  it  in  the  furnace  fire,  you'll 
get  a  fair  idea  of  the  kind  of  atmosphere 
we'd  be  breathing  if  I  allowed  a  cigar 
like  that  to  be  lit  within  fifty  feet  of  the 
front  door." 

"  But  you  can  get  a  good  cigar  for  ten 
cents,  can't  you  ?"  Mrs.  Jarley  asked. 
194 


JARLEY'S   THANKSGIVING 

"Yes  —  very  good,"  assented  Jarley  ; 
"  but  Billie  would  probably  smoke  thirty- 
two  of  those,  and  carry  three  or  four 
away  with  him  in  his  pockets.  I'd  lose 
even  more  that  way.  It's  a  singular 
thing  about  friends.  They  have  some 
conscience  about  Invincible  cigars,  but 
they'll  take  others  by  the  handful." 

Jarley  was  also  somewhat  blue  upon 
this  occasion  because  none  of  his  inven 
tions — the  little  things  he  thought  out  in 
his  leisure  moments,  and  out  of  some  of 
which  he  had  hoped  to  gain  a  deal  of 
profit — had  been  successful.  The  pub 
lic  had  refused  to  place  any  confidence 
whatsoever  in  his  patent  reversible  spats, 
which,  when  turned  inside  out,  could  be 
made  useful  as  galoches  ;  and  the  beaux 
of  New  York  actually  rejected  with  scorn 
the  celluloid  chrysanthemum,  which  he 
had  hoped  would  become  a  popular 
boutonniere  because  of  its  durability 
and  cheapness.  An  impecunious  young 
man  with  care  could  make  one  fifteen- 
cent  chrysanthemum  of  the  Jarley  order 
last  through  a  whole  season,  and  it  could 
be  colored  to  suit  the  wearer's  taste  with 
the  ordinary  paint-boxes  that  children 
so  delight  in  ;  but  in  spite  of  this  the 
195 


JARLEY'S    THANKSGIVING 

celluloid  chrysanthemum  was  a  distinct 
failure,  and  Jarley  had  had  his  trouble 
for  his  pains,  to  say  nothing  of  the  cost 
of  the  model.  But  worst  of  all  the  fail 
ures,  because  of  the  prospective  losses 
its  failure  entailed,  was  the  Jarley  safety 
lightning  razor.  Its  failure  was  not  due 
to  any  lack  of  merit,  for  it  certainly  pos 
sessed  much  that  was  ingenious  and 
commendable.  The  affair  was  not  dif 
ferent  in  principle  from  a  lawn-mower. 
Six  little  sharp  blades  set  on  a  cylinder 
would  revolve  rapidly  as  the  pretty  ma 
chine  was  pushed  up  and  down  the  cheek 
of  the  person  shaving,  and  leave  the  face 
of  that  person  as  smooth  as  a  piece  of 
velvet ;  but  in  announcing  it  to  the  world 
its  inventor  had  made  the  unfortunate 
statement  that  a  child  could  use  it  with 
impunity,  and  some  would-be  smart  per 
son  on  a  comic  paper  took  it  up  and 
wrote  an  undeniably  clever  article  on 
the  futility  of  inventing  a  razor  for  chil 
dren.  The  consequence  was  that  the 
safety  razor  was  laughed  out  of  exist 
ence,  and  the  additions  to  his  residence 
which  Jarley  was  going  to  pay  for  out 
of  the  proceeds  had  to  be  abandoned. 
"  I  don't  like  a  blue  funk,"  he  said, 
196 


JARLEY'S  THANKSGIVING 

"and  generally  I  can  find  something  to 
be  thankful  for  at  this  season  ;  but  I'm 
blest  if  this  year,  beyond  the  fact  that 
we're  all  alive,  I  can  see  any  cause  for 
celebrating  my  thankfulness.  I  haven't 
enough  of  it  to  last  ten  minutes,  much 
less  a  day,  what  with  the  positive  failure 
of  my  inventions,  the  loss  of  income 
from  what  I  once  considered  safe  in 
vestments  that  have  gone  to  the  wall, 
and  the  reduction  of  my  professional 
earnings,  not  to  mention  the  fact  that 
almost  at  the  beginning  of  my  profes 
sional  year  I  am  as  tired  physically  and 
mentally  as  I  ought  to  be  at  the  finish." 

"  Oh,  well,  say  you  are  thankful,  any 
how,"  suggested  Mrs.  Jarley.  "  You  will 
convince  others  that  you  are,  and  may 
be,  if  you  say  it  often  enough,  you  will 
convince  yourself  of  the  fact." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Jarley.  "  It's  possibly 
a  good  suggestion,  but  I  don't  believe  in 
pretending  to  be  what  I'm  not.  It  might 
convince  me  that  I  am  thankful  for 
something,  but  I  don't  want  to  be  con 
vinced  when  I  know  I'm  not." 

Which  shows,  I  think,  how  very  blue 
Jarley  was. 

"  There's  one  thing,"  he  added,  with  a 
197 


JARLEY'S   THANKSGIVING 

sigh  of  relief  at  the  thought — "  I'll  have 
a  day  of  rest  to-morrow  anyhow.  I've 
bought  Jack  a  football,  and  he  can  take 
it  out  on  the  tennis-court  and  play  with 
it  all  day,  with  intervals  for  meals." 

"  Why  did  you  do  that  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Jarley,  with  a  gesture  not  so  much  of 
indignation  as  of  disapproval.  "  I  think 
football  is  such  a  brutal  game  ;  and  if 
Jack  has  a  football  at  his  present  age, 
when  he's  in  college  he'll  want  to  play. 
I  don't  want  to  have  my  boy  wearing 
his  hair  like  a  Comanche  Indian,  and 
coming  home  with  broken  ribs  and  dis 
located  limbs." 

"We'll  let  the  broken  ribs  of  1904  and 
the  wig  of  the  same  period  suffice  for 
the  evils  of  that  year,"  retorted  Jarley. 
"  It's  the  present  I'm  looking  after,  not 
the  future  ten  or  twelve  years  removed. 
If  Jack  hasn't  that  football  to-morrow 
he'll  have  me,  and  I've  no  desire  in  the 
present  condition  of  my  physical  well- 
being  to  be  used  by  him  as  a  plaything. 
Deprived  of  the  leathern  ball,  he  might 
use  me  as  a  football  instead,  and  I  must 
rest.  That's  all  there  is  about  it.  Besides, 
if  he  becomes  an  aspirant  for  football 
honors  now  it  will  be  a  good  thing  for 
198 


JARLEY'S    THANKSGIVING 

him.  He'll  take  care  of  himself  and  try 
to  improve  his  physique  if  he  once  gets 
the  notion  in  his  head  that  he  wants  to 
go  on  a  university  eleven.  I  want  my 
boy  to  learn  to  be  a  man,  and  the  foot 
ball  ambition  is  likely  to  be  a  very  use 
ful  aid  in  that  direction.  He  knits  reins 
very  well  with  a  spool  and  a  pin  now, 
and  I  think  it's  time  he  graduated  in 
that  art,  unless  the  woman  of  the  future, 
of  whom  we  hear  so  much,  is  to  take 
man's  place  to  such  an  extent  that  the 
man  will  have  to  take  up  woman's  work. 
If  I  thought  the  masculine  tendency  of 
our  present-day  girls  was  likely  to  go 
much  further,  I  might  consent  to  the 
effemination  of  Jack  simply  to  secure 
his  comfort  as  a  married  man  of  the 
future  ;  but  I  don't  think  that,  and  in 
consequence  Jack  is  going  to  be  brought 
up  as  a  boy,  and  not  as  a  girl.  The 
football  goes." 

This  remark  was  another  indication  of 
Jarley's  depression.  He  rarely  combated 
Mrs.  Jarley's  ideas,  and  when  he  did,  and 
with  a  certain  air  of  irritation,  it  was  in 
variably  a  sign  of  his  low  mental  state. 

"  When  you  say  that  the  football  goes, 
do  you  mean  that  it  stays  ?"  queried 
199 


JARLEY'S    THANKSGIVING 

Mrs.  Jarley,  who  was  a  little  tired  her 
self,  and  could  not,  therefore,  resist  the 
temptation  to  indulge  in  a  bit  of  inno 
cent  repartee. 

"  I  do,"  said  Jarley,  shortly.  "  Goes  is 
sometimes  a  synonym  for  stays?  When 
I  feel  stronger  I  may  invent  a  new  lan 
guage,  which  will  have  fewer  absurdities 
than  English  as  she  is  spoke." 

And  with  this  Jarley  went  to  bed,  and 
slept  the  sleep  of  the  just  man  who  is 
truly  weary. 

If  he  had  foreseen  the  result  of  his 
football  investment  it  is  doubtful  if  his 
sleep  would  have  been  so  tranquil — un 
less,  perchance,  he  were  fashioned  after 
that  rare  pattern  of  mankind,  Louis  XVI. 
of  France,  who  called  for  his  six  or  seven 
course  dinner  with  a  mob  of  howling, 
bloodthirsty  Parisians  in  his  antecham 
ber,  and  who  on  the  eve  of  his  execution 
slept  well,  despite  his  knowledge  that 
within  fifteen  hours  his  head  would  in 
all  probability  be  lopped  off  by  the 
guillotine  to  gratify  the  lust  for  blood 
which  was  the  chief  characteristic  of  the 
promoters  of  the  first  French  Republic. 

At  six  on  the  morning  of  Thanksgiv 
ing  Day  Jarley  was  sleeping  peacefully, 
200 


JARLEY'S    THANKSGIVING 

but  the  youthful  Jack  was  not.  Thanks 
giving  Day  was  not  a  holiday  in  his  eyes, 
but  a  day  set  apart  for  work,  thanks  to 
his  father's  indulgence  in  providing  him 
with  a  football.  He  had  gone  to  bed 
the  night  before  with  the  ball  hugged 
tightly  to  his  breast ;  and  along  about 
ten  o'clock,  when  Jarley  himself  had 
gone  into  the  nursery  to  put  that  treas 
ured  good- night  kiss  upon  the  forehead 
of  his  sleeping  boy,  tired  as  he  was  and 
blue  as  he  was,  he  had  difficulty  in  re 
pressing  the  laughter  that  manifested 
itself  within  him,  for  Jack  lay  prone, 
face  upward,  with  the  football  under  the 
small  of  his  back,  and  seemingly  as  com 
fortable  as  though  he  were  resting  upon 
eider-down. 

"  That  is  certainly  a  characteristic  foot 
ball  attitude,"  Jarley  said,  when  Mrs. 
Jarley  had  come  to  see  what  had  caused 
her  husband's  chuckle. 

«  Yes — and  so  good  for  the  spine  !"  re 
turned  Mrs.  Jarley. 

The  attitude  was  changed,  but  the 
ball  was  left  where  Jack  would  see  it  the 
first  thing  on  awaking  in  the  morning. 
At  six,  as  I  have  said,  Jarley  was  sleep 
ing  peacefully,  but  Jack  was  not.  He 
201 


JARLEY'S    THANKSGIVING 

had  opened  his  eyes  some  minutes  be 
fore,  and  on  catching  sight  of  his  treas 
ured  football  he  began  to  grin.  The 
grin  grew  wider  and  wider,  until  appar 
ently  it  got  too  wide  for  the  bed,  and  the 
boy  leaped  out  of  his  couch  upon  the 
floor.  The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  pat 
the  ball  gently  but  firmly,  very  much  as 
a  kitten  manifests  its  interest  in  a  ball 
of  yarn.  Then  his  attentions  to  his  new 
plaything  grew  more  pronounced  and 
vigorous,  and  within  fifteen  minutes  it 
had  been  chased  out  of  the  nursery  into 
the  parental  bedchamber.  Still  Jarley 
slept.  Mrs.  Jarley  was  merely  half  asleep. 
She  tried  to  tell  Jack  to  be  quiet ;  but 
she  was  not  quite  wide  awake  enough  to 
do  so  as  forcibly  as  was  necessary,  and 
the  result  was  that  instead  of  abating 
his  ardor,  Jack  plunged  into  his  sport 
more  vigorously  than  ever. 

And  then  Jarley  was  awakened  —  and 
what  an  awakening  it  was  !  Not  one  of 
those  peaceful  comings-to  that  betoken 
the  tranquil  mind  after  a  good  rest,  but 
a  return  to  consciousness  with  every 
warlike  tendency  in  his  being  aroused  to 
the  highest  pitch.  Jack  had  passed  the 
ball  with  considerable  momentum  on  to 
202 


JARLEY'S    THANKSGIVING 

the  mantel  -  piece,  which  sent  it  back 
ward  on  the  rebound  to  no  less  a  feature 
than  the  nose  of  the  slumbering  Jarley. 

"What  the  deuce  was  that?"  cried 
Jarley,  sitting  up  straight  in  bed.  He 
had  forgotten  all  about  the  football,  and 
to  his  suddenly  restored  consciousness  it 
seemed  as  if  the  ceiling  must  have  fallen. 
Then  he  rubbed  his  nose,  which  still 
ached  from  the  force  of  the  impact  be 
tween  itself  and  the  ball. 

"  It  was  the  ball  did  it,  papa,"  said 
Jack,  meekly.  "  'Twasn't  me." 

In  an  instant  Jarley  was  on  the  floor  ; 
and  Jack,  scenting  trouble,  incontinently 
fled.  The  parent  was  angry  from  the 
top  of  his  head  to  the  soles  of  his  feet, 
but  as  the  soles  of  his  feet  touched  the 
floor  his  anger  abated.  After  all,  Jack 
hadn't  meant  to  hurt  him,  and  having 
witnessed  several  games  of  football,  he 
knew  how  innately  perverse  an  oval- 
shaped  affair  like  the  ball  itself  could 
be.  Furthermore,  there  was  Mrs.  Jarley, 
who  had  disapproved  of  his  purchase 
from  the  outset.  If  he  wreaked  ven 
geance  upon  poor  little  Jack  for  his  un 
witting  offence,  Jarley  knew  that  he 
would  in  a  measure  weaken  his  position 
203 


JARLEY'S   THANKSGIVING 

in  the  argument  of  the  night  before. 
So,  instead  of  chastising  Jack,  as  he 
really  felt  inclined  to  do,  he  picked  up 
the  ball,  and  repairing  to  the  nursery, 
summoned  the  boy  to  him  in  his  sweet 
est  tones. 

"  Never  mind,  old  chap,"  he  said,  as 
Jack  appeared  before  him.  "  I  know 
you  didn't  mean  it ;  but  you  must  play 
in  here  until  it  is  time  for  you  to  go  out. 
Papa  is  very  sleepy,  and  you  disturb 
him." 

"  All  right,"  said  Jack.  « I'll  play  in 
here.  I  forgot." 

Then  Jarley  patted  Jack  on  the  head, 
rubbed  his  nose  again  dubiously,  for  it 
still  smarted  from  the  effects  of  the  blow 
it  had  sustained,  and  retired  to  his  bed 
once  more.  If  he  fondly  hoped  to  sleep 
again,  he  soon  found  that  his  hope  was 
based  upon  a  most  shifting  foundation, 
for  the  whoops  and  cries  and  noises  of 
all  sorts,  vocal  and  otherwise,  that  ema 
nated  from  the  next  room  destroyed  all 
possibility  of  his  doing  anything  of  the 
sort.  At  first  the  very  evident  enjoyment 
of  his  son  and  heir,  as  Jarley  listened  to 
his  goings-on  in  the  nursery,  amused 
him  more  or  less  ;  but  his  quiet  smile 
204 


JARLEY'S   THANKSGIVING 

soon  turned  to  one  of  blank  dismay 
when  he  heard  a  thunderous  roar  from 
Jack,  followed  by  a  crash  of  glass. 
Again  springing  from  his  bed,  Jarley 
rushed  into  the  nursery. 

"  Well,  what's  happened  now  ?"  he 
asked. 

Jack's  under  lip  curved  in  the  manner 
which  betokens  tears  ready  to  be  shed. 

"  Nun-nothing,"  he  sobbed.  "  I  was 
just  k-kicking  a  goal,  and  that  picture 
got  in  the  way." 

Jarley  looked  for  the  picture  that  had 
got  in  the  way,  and  at  once  perceived  that 
it  would  never  get  in  the  way  again, 
since  it  was  irretrievably  ruined.  How 
ever,  he  was  not  overcome  by  wrath  over 
this  incident,  because  the  picture  was  not 
of  any  particular  value.  It  was  only  a 
highly  colored  print  of  three  cats  in  a 
basket,  which  had  come  with  a  Sunday 
newspaper,  and  had  been  cheaply  framed 
and  hung  up  in  the  nursery  because 
Jack  had  so  willed.  On  principle  Jarley 
had  to  show  a  certain  amount  of  dis 
pleasure  over  the  accident,  and  he  did 
as  well  as  he  could  under  the  circum 
stances,  and  retired. 

For  a  while  Jack  played  quietly  enough, 
205 


JARLEY'S   THANKSGIVING 

and  Jarley  was  just  about  dozing  off  into 
that  delicious  forty  winks  prior  to  get 
ting  up  when  shrieks  from  the  second 
Jarley  boy  came  from  the  nursery.  This 
time  Mrs.  Jarley,  with  one  or  two  ex 
pressions  of  natural  impatience,  deemed 
it  her  duty  to  interfere.  Jarley,  she 
reasoned,  had  a  perfect  right  to  spoil 
Jack  if  he  pleased,  but  he  had  no  right 
to  permit  Jack  to  do  bodily  injury  to 
Tommy ;  and  as  Tommy  was  making 
the  house  echo  and  re-echo  with  his 
wails,  she  deemed  it  her  duty  to  take  a 
hand.  Jarley  meanwhile  pretended  to 
sleep.  He  was  as  wide  awake  as  he  ever 
was  ;  but  the  atmosphere  was  not  full  of 
warmth,  and  upon  this  occasion,  as  well 
as  upon  many  others,  his  conscience  per 
mitted  him  to  overlook  the  shortcom 
ings  of  his  elder  son,  and  to  assume  a 
somnolence  which,  while  it  was  not  real, 
certainly  did  conduce  to  the  maintenance 
of  his  personal  comfort.  Mrs.  Jarley, 
therefore,  rose  up  in  her  wrath.  It  was 
merely  a  motherly  wrath,  however,  and 
those  of  us  who  have  had  mothers  will 
at  once  realize  what  that  wrath  amounted 
to.  She  repaired  immediately  to  the 
nursery,  and  without  knowing  anything 
206 


JARLEY'S    THANKSGIVING 

of  the  technical  terms  of  the  noble  game 
of  football,  instinctively  realized  that 
Jack  and  Tommy  were  having  a  "  scrim 
mage."  That  is  to  say,  she  was  con 
fronted  with  a  structure  made  up  as  fol 
lows  :  basement,  the  ball  ;  first  story, 
Tommy,  with  his  small  and  tender  stom 
ach  placed  directly  over  the  ball  ;  second 
story  and  roof,  Jack,  lying  stomach  up 
ward  and  wiggling,  his  back  accurately 
registered  on  Tommy's  back,  to  the 
detriment  and  pain  of  Tommy. 

"  Get  up.  Jack  !"  Mrs.  Jarley  cried. 
"  What  on  earth  are  you  trying  to  do 
to  Tommy  ?  Do  you  want  to  kill  him  ?" 

"  Nome,"  Jack  replied,  innocently. 
"  He  wanted  to  play  football,  and  I'm 
letting  him.  He's  Harvard  and  I'm 
Yale." 

A  smothered  laugh  from  the  adjoin 
ing  room  showed  that  Jarley  was  not  so 
soundly  sleeping  that  he  could  not  hear 
what  was  going  on.  Tommy  meanwhile 
continued  to  wail. 

"Well,  get  up. —  right  away!"  cried 
Mrs.  Jarley.  "  I  sha'n't  have  you  abusing 
Tommy  this  way." 

"  Ain't  abusin'  him,"  retorted  Jack, 
rising.  •*  I  was  'commodatin'  him.  He 
207 


JARLEY'S    THANKSGIVING 

wanted  to  play.  When  I  don't  let  him 
play  I  get  scolded,  and  when  I  do  let 
him  I'm  scolded.  'Pears  to  me  you  don't 
want  me  to  do  anything." 

Thus  Thanksgiving  Day  began,  not 
altogether  well,  but  equanimity  was 
soon  restored  all  around,  and  everything 
might  have  run  smoothly  from  that  time 
on  had  not  a  cold  drizzling  rain  set  in 
about  breakfast-time.  It  was  clearly  to 
be  an  in-door  day.  And  what  a  day  it 
was  ! 

At  ten  o'clock  the  football  came  into 
play  again. 

At  eleven  the  score  stood  :  one  clock 
knocked  off  the  mantelpiece  in  the  li 
brary  ;  three  chandelier  globes  broken  to 
bits;  one  plaster  Barye  bear  destroyed 
by  a  low  kick  from  the  parlor  floor  ; 
Tommy  with  his  nose  very  nearly  out  of 
joint,  thanks  to  a  flying  wedge  repre 
sented  by  Jack  ;  Mrs.  Jarley's  amiability 
in  peril,  and  Jarley's  irritability  well  de 
veloped. 

At  twelve  the  ball  was  confiscated,  but 
restored  at  twelve-five  for  the  sake  of 
peace  and  quiet. 

At  one,  dinner  was  served  and  eaten  in 
moody  silence,  Jack  having  inadvertent- 
208 


JARLEY'S   THANKSGIVING 

ly  punted  the  ball  through  the  pantry, 
grazing  the  chignon  of  the  waitress,  and 
landing  in  the  mayonnaise.  It  was  not 
a  happy  dinner,  and  Jarley  began  to 
wish  either  that  he  had  never  been  born 
or  that  all  footballs  were  in  Ballyhack, 
wherever  that  might  be. 

"If  it  would  only  clear  off!"  he 
moaned.  "That  boy  needs  a  play 
ground  as  big  as  the  State  of  Texas 
anyhow,  and  here  we  are  cooped  up  in 
the  house,  with  a  football  added." 

"  We'll  have  to  take  it  away  from 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Jarley,  "or  else  you'll 
have  to  take  Jack  up  into  the  attic  and 
play  with  him.  I  can't  have  everything 
in  the  house  smashed." 

"  We'll  compromise  on  Jack's  going  to 
the  attic.  I  have  no  desire  to  play  foot 
ball,"  returned  Jarley  ;  and  this  was  the 
plan  agreed  upon.  It  would  have  been 
a  good  plan  if  Jarley  had  expended  some 
of  his  inventive  genius  upon  some  such 
game  as  football  solitaire,  and  instructed 
Jack  therein  beforehand ;  but  this  he 
had  not  done,  and  the  result  was  that 
at  three  o'clock  Jarley  found  himself  in 
the  attic  involved  in  a  furious  game,  in 
which  he  represented  variously  Harvard, 
o  209 


JARLEY'S   THANKSGIVING 

the  goal,  the  goal-posts,  the  referee,  and 
acting  with  too  great  frequency  as  un 
derstudy  for  the  ball.  What  he  was  not, 
Jack  was,  and  the  worst  part  of  it  was 
that  there  was  no  tiring  Jack.  The  longer 
he  played,  the  better  he  liked  it.  The 
oftener  Jarley's  shins  received  kicks  in 
tended  for  the  football,  the  louder  he 
laughed.  When  Jarley,  serving  as  a 
goal-post,  stood  at  one  end  of  the  attic, 
Jarley  junior,  standing  several  yards 
away,  often  appeared  to  mistake  him  for 
two  goal-posts,  and  to  make  an  honest 
effort  to  kick  the  ball  through  him. 
Slowly  the  hours  passed,  until  finally  six 
o'clock  struck,  and  Master  Jack's  supper 
was  announced. 

The  day  was  over  at  last.  Wearily 
Jarley  dragged  himself  down  the  stairs 
and  reckoned  up  the  day's  losses.  In 
glass  and  bric-a-brac  destroyed  he  was 
some  twenty  or  thirty  dollars  out.  In 
mayonnaise  dressing  lost  at  dinner 
through  the  untoward  act  of  the  foot 
ball  he  was  out  one  pleasurable  sensa 
tion  to  his  palate,  and  Jarley  was  one  of 
those  to  whom  that  is  a  loss  of  an  irre 
parable  nature.  In  bodily  estate  he  was 
practically  a  bankrupt.  Had  he  bicycled 
210 


JARLEY'S    THANKSGIVING 

all  morning  and  played  golf  all  the  af 
ternoon  he  could  not  have  been  half  so 
weary.  Had  he  been  thrown  from  a 
horse  flat  upon  an  asphalt  pavement  he 
could  not  have  been  half  so  bruised  ;  all 
of  which  Mrs.  Jarley  considerately  noted, 
and  with  an  effort  recovered  her  amia 
bility  for  her  husband's  sake,  so  that 
after  eight  o'clock,  at  which  hour  Jack 
retired  to  bed,  a  little  rest  was  obtain 
able,  and  Jarley's  equanimity  was  slowly 
restored. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Jarley,  as  they  went 
up-stairs  at  eleven,  "  it  hasn't  been  a  very 
peaceful  day,  has  it,  dear  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  all  depends  on  how  you  spell 
peace.  If  you  spell  it  p-i-e-c-e,  it's  been 
full  of  pieces,"  returned  Jarley,  with  a 
smile  ;  "  but  I  say,  my  dear,  I  want  to 
modify  my  statement  last  night  that  I 
had  nothing  to  be  thankful  for.  I  have 
discovered  one  great  blessing." 

"What's  that  — a  football?"  queried 
Mrs.  Jarley. 

"  Not  by  ten  thousand  long  shots  !" 
cried  Jarley.  "  No,  indeed.  It's  this  : 
I'm  more  thankful  than  I  can  express 
that  Jack  is  not  twins.  If  he  had  been, 
you'd  have  been  a  widow  this  evening." 
211 


HARRY  AND  MAUDE  AND   I— ALSO 
JAMES 

WE  both  loved  Maude  deeply,  and 
Maude  loved  us.  We  know  that,  be 
cause  Maude  told  us  so.  She  told  Harry 
so  one  Sunday  evening  on  the  way  home 
from  church,  and  she  told  me  so  the 
following  Saturday  afternoon  on  the  way 
to  the  matinee. 

This  was  the  cause  of  the  dispute 
Harry  and  I  had  in  the  club  corner  that 
Saturday  night.  Harry  and  I  are  confi 
dants,  and  neither  of  us  has  secrets  that 
the  other  does  not  share,  and  so,  of 
course,  Maude's  feeling  towards  each  of 
us  was  fully  revealed. 

We  did  not  quarrel  over  it,  for  Harry 
and  I  never  quarrel.  I  want  to  quarrel, 
but  it  is  a  peculiar  thing  about  me  that 
I  always  want  to  quarrel  with  men 
named  Harry,  but  never  can  quite  do  it. 
Harry  is  a  name  which,  per  se,  arouses 
212 


HARRY  AND  MAUDE  AND  I— ALSO  JAMES 

my  ire,  but  which  carries  with  it  also  the 
soothing  qualities  which  dispel  irrita 
tion. 

This  is  a  point  for  the  philosopher,  I 
think.  Why  is  it  that  we  cannot  quarrel 
with  some  men  bearing  certain  names, 
while  with  far  better  men  bearing  other 
names  we  are  always  at  swords'  points  ? 
Who  ever  quarrelled  with  a  man  who 
had  so  endeared  himself  to  the  world, 
for  instance,  that  the  world  spoke  of 
him  as  Jack,  or  Bob,  or  Willie?  And 
who  has  not  quarrelled  with  Georges 
and  Ebenezers  and  Horaces  ad  lib.,  and 
been  glad  to  have  had  the  chance  ? 

But  this  is  a  thing  apart.  This  time 
we  have  set  out  to  tell  that  other  story 
which  is  always  mentioned  but  never 
told. 

Maude  loved  us.  That  was  the  point 
upon  which  Harry  and  I  agreed.  We 
had  her  authority  for  it ;  but  where  we 
differed  was,  which  of  the  two  did  she 
love  the  better? 

Harry,  of  course,  took  his  own  side  in 
the  matter.  He  is  a  man  of  prejudice, 
and  argues  from  sentiment  rather  than 
from  conviction. 

He  said  that  on  her  way  home  from 
213 


HARRY   AND    MAUDE   AND    I— 

church  a  girl's  thoughts  are  of  necessity 
solemn,  and  her  utterances  are,  therefore, 
the  solemn  truth.  He  added  that,  in  a 
matter  of  such  importance  as  love,  the 
conclusion  reached  after  an  hour  or  two 
of  spiritual  reflection  and  instruction, 
such  as  church  in  the  evening  inspires, 
is  the  true  conclusion. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  maintained  that 
human  nature  has  something  to  do  with 
women.  Very  little,  of  course,  but  still 
enough  to  make  my  point  a  good  one. 
It  is  human  nature  for  a  girl  to  prefer 
matin6es  to  Sunday  evening  services. 
This  is  sad,  no  doubt,  but  so  are  some 
other  great  truths.  Maude,  as  a  true 
type  of  girlhood,  would  naturally  think 
more  of  the  man  who  was  taking  her  to 
a  matinee  than  of  the  fellow  who  was 
escorting  her  home  from  church,  there 
fore  she  loved  me  better  than  she  did 
Harry,  and  he  ought  to  have  the  sense 
to  see  it  and  withdraw. 

Unfortunately,  Harry  is  near-sighted 
in  respect  to  arguments  evolved  by  the 
mind  of  another,  though  in  the  percep 
tion  of  refinements  in  his  own  reasoning 
he  has  the  eye  of  the  eagle.  "  Love  on 
the  way  to  a  matinee,"  he  said,  "is  one 
214 


ALSO   JAMES 

part  affection  and   nine   parts  enthusi 
asm." 

"  And  love  on  the  return  from  church 
is  in  all  ten  parts  temporary  aberration," 
I  returned.  "  It  is  what  you  might  call 
Seventh  Day  affection.  Quiet,  and  no 
doubt  sincere,  but  it  is  dissipated  by  the 
rising  of  the  Monday  sun.  It  is  like  our 
good  resolutions  on  New  Year's  Day, 
which  barely  last  over  a  fortnight.  Some 
little  word  spoken  by  the  rector  may 
have  aroused  in  her  breast  a  spark  of 
love  for  you,  but  one  spark  does  not 
make  a  conflagration.  Properly  fanned 
it  may  develop  into  one,  but  in  itself  it 
is  nothing  more  than  a  spark.  Who  can 
say  that  it  was  not  pity  that  led  Maude 
to  speak  so  to  you  ?  Your  necktie  may 
have  been  disarranged  without  your 
knowing  it,  and  at  a  time  when  she  could 
not  tell  you  of  it.  That  sort  of  thing 
inspires  pity,  and  you  know  as  well  as  I 
do  that  pity  and  love  are  cousins,  but 
cousins  who  never  marry.  You  are 
favored,  but  not  to  the  extent  that  I  am." 

"You    argue    well,"   returned    Harry, 
"but    you    ignore    the    moon.     In    the 
solemn  presence  of  the  great  orb  of  night 
no  woman  would  swear  falsely." 
215 


HARRY   AND    MAUDE   AND   I— 

"  You  prick  your  argument  with  your 
point,"  I  answered.  "There  were  no  ex 
traneous  arguments  brought  to  bear  on 
Maude  when  she  confessed  to  me  that 
she  loved  me.  It  was  done  in  the  cold 
light  of  day.  There  was  no  moon  around 
to  egg  her  on  when  she  confessed  her 
affection  for  me.  I  know  the  moon 
pretty  well  myself,  and  I  know  just  what 
effect  it  has  on  truth.  I  have  told  false 
hoods  in  the  moonlight  that  I  knew  were 
falsehoods,  and  yet  while  Luna  was  look 
ing  on,  no  creature  in  the  universe  could 
have  convinced  me  of  their  untruthful- 
ness.  The  moon's  rays  have  kissed  the 
Blarney  -  stone,  Harry.  A  moonlight 
truth  is  a  noonday  lie." 

"  Doesn't  the  genial  warmth  of  the 
sun  ever  lead  one  from  the  path  of 
truth  ?"  queried  Harry,  satirical  of  man 
ner. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "  But  not  in  a 
horse-car  with  people  treading  on  your 
feet." 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?"  Harry 
asked. 

"  It  was  on  a  Broadway  car  that  Maude 
confessed,"  I  answered. 

Harry  looked  blue.  His  eyes  said  : 
216 


ALSO   JAMES 

"  Gad  !    How  she  must  love  you  !"     But 
his  lips  said  :  "  Ho  !     Nonsense  !" 

"It  is  the  truth,"  said  I,  seeing  that 
Harry  was  weakening.  "  As  we  were  wait 
ing  for  the  car  to  come  along  I  said  to  her : 
*  Maude,  I  am  not  the  man  I  ought  to 
be,  but  I  have  one  redeeming  quality:  I 
love  you  to  distraction.' 

"  She  was  about  to  reply  when  the  car 
came.  We  were  requested  to  step  lively. 
We  did  so,  and  the  car  started.  Then  as 
we  stood  in  the  crowded  aisle  of  the  car 
we  spoke  in  enigmas. 

"  '  Did  you  hear  what  I  said,  Maude  ?' 
I  asked. 

"  *  Yes,'  said  she,  gazing  softly  out  of 
the  window,  and  a  slight  touch  of  red 
coming  into  her  cheeks.  *  Yes,  I  heard.' 

"'And  what  is  your  reply?'  I  whis 
pered. 

"'So  do  I,'  she  answered,  with  a  sigh." 

Harry  laughed,  and  so  irritatingly  that 
had  his  name  been  Thomas  I  should 
have  struck  him. 

"  What  is  the  joke  ?"  I  asked. 

"You  won't  think  it's  funny,"  Harry 
answered. 

"Then  it  must  be  a  poor  joke,"  I  re 
torted,  a  little  nettled. 
217 


HARRY   AND    MAUDE   AND    I— 

"  Well,  it's  on  you,"  he  said.  "  You 
have  simply  shown  me  that  Maude  never 
told  you  she  loved  you.  That's  the 
joke." 

I  was  speechless  with  wrath,  but  my 
eyes  spoke.  "  How  have  I  shown  that  ?" 
they  asked  in  my  behalf. 

"You  say  that  you  told  Maude  that 
you  loved  her  to  distraction.  To  which 
declaration  she  replied,  *  So  do  I.'  Where 
there  is  in  that  any  avowal  that  she  loves 
you  I  fail  to  see.  She  simply  stated  that 
she  too  loved  herself  to  distraction,  and 
I  breathe  again." 

"  Hair-splitting  !"  said  I,  wrathfully. 

"  No — side-splitting  !"  returned  Harry, 
with  a  roar  of  laughter.  "  Now  my  dec 
laration  was  very  different  from  yours. 
It  was  made  when  Maude  and  I  were 
walking  home  from  church.  It  was 
about  nine  o'clock,  and  the  streets  were 
bathed  in  mellow  moonlight  I  declared 
myself  because  I  could  not  help  myself. 
I  had  no  intention  of  doing  so  when  I 
started  out  earlier  in  the  evening,  but 
the  uplifting  effect  of  the  service  of  song 
at  church,  combined  with  the  most  ro 
mantic  kind  of  a  moon,  forced  me  into  it. 
I  told  her  I  was  a  struggler ;  that  I  was 
218 


ALSO   JAMES 

not  yet  able  to  support  a  wife ;  and  that 
while  I  did  not  wish  to  ask  any  pledge 
from  her,  I  could  not  resist  telling  her 
that  I  loved  her  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul." 

/  began  to  feel  blue.  "  And  what  did 
she  say?"  I  asked,  a  little  hoarsely. 

"  She  said  she  returned  my  affec 
tion." 

I  braced  up.  "  Ha,  ha,  ha  !"  I  laughed. 
"This  time  the  joke  is  on  you." 

"  I  fail  to  see  it,"  he  said. 

"  Of  course,"  I  retorted.  "  It  is  not 
one  of  your  jokes.  But  say,  Harry,  when 
you  send  a  poem  to  a  magazine  and  the 
editor  doesn't  want  it,  what  does  he  do 
with  it  ?" 

"  Returns  it.     Ah  !" 

The  "  ah  "  was  a  gasp. 

"  You  are  the  hair-splitter  this  time," 
said  he,  ruefully. 

"  I  am,"  said  I.  "  I  could  effectually 
destroy  a  whole  wig  of  hairs  like  that. 
If  you  are  right  in  your  reasoning  as  to 
Maude's  love  for  me,  I  am  right  as  re 
gards  her  love  for  you.  We  are  both 
splitting  hairs  in  most  unprofitable  fash 
ion." 

"We  are,"  said  Harry,  with  a  sigh. 
219 


HARRY   AND    MAUDE  AND   I— 

"  There  is  only  one  way  to  settle  the 
matter." 

"  And  that  ?" 

"  Let's  call  around  there  now  and  ask 
her." 

"I  am  agreeable,"  said  I. 

"  Often,"  said  Harry,  ringing  for  our 
coats. 

In  a  few  moments  we  were  ready  to 
depart ;  and  as  we  stepped  out  into  the 
night,  whom  should  we  run  up  against 
but  that  detestable  Jimmie  Brown  ! 

"Whither  away,  boys?"  he  asked,  in 
his  usual  bubblesome  manner. 

"  We  are  going  to  make  a  call." 

"  Ah  !  Well,  wait  a  minute,  won't  you  ? 
I  have  some  news.  I'm  in  great  luck, 
and  I  want  you  fellows  to  join  me  in  a 
health  to  the  future  Mrs.  B." 

"  Engaged  at  last,  eh,  Brown  ?"  said 
Harry. 

I  did  not  speak,  for  I  felt  a  sudden 
and  most  depressing  sinking  of  the 
heart. 

"  Yes,"  said  Brown  ;  and  then  he  told 
us  to  whom. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  mention  the 
lady's  name.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Har 
ry  and  I  both  returned  to  our  corner  in 
220 


ALSO   JAMES 

the  club,  discarded  our  overcoats,  and 
talked  about  two  subjects. 

The  first  was  the  weather. 

The  second,  the  fickleness  of  women. 

Incidentally  we  agreed  that  there  was 
something  irritating  about  certain  names, 
and  on  this  occasion  James  excited  our 
ire  somewhat  more  than  was  normal. 

But  we  did  not  lick  James.  We  had 
too  much  regard  for  some  one  else  to 
split  a  hair  of  his  head. 


AN  AFFINITIVE  ROMANCE 


MR.    AUGUSTUS   RICHARDS'S   IDEAL 

MR.  AUGUSTUS  RICHARDS  was  thirty 
years  of  age  and  unmarried.  He  could 
afford  to  marry,  and  he  had  admired 
many  women,  but  none  of  them  came 
up  to  his  ideals.  Miss  Fotheringay,  for 
instance,  represented  his  notions  as  to 
what  a  woman  should  be  physically,  but 
intellectually  he  found  her  wofully  be 
low  his  required  standard.  She  was  tall 
and  stately  —  Junoesque  some  people 
called  her — but  in  her  conversation  she 
was  decidedly  flippant.  She  was  inter 
ested  in  all  the  small  things  of  life,  but 
for  the  great  ones  she  had  no  inclina 
tion.  She  preferred  a  dance  with  a  cal 
low  youth  to  a  chat  with  a  man  of  learn 
ing.  She  worshipped  artificial  in-door 

222 


AN   AFFINITIVE    ROMANCE 

life,  but  had  no  sympathy  with  nature. 
The  country  she  abominated,  and  her 
ideas  of  rest  consisted  solely  in  a  change 
of  locality,  which  was  why  she  went  to 
Newport  every  summer,  there  to  indulge 
in  further  routs  and  dances  when  she 
wearied  of  the  routs  and  dances  of  New 
York. 

Miss  Patterson,  on  the  other  hand, 
represented  to  the  fullest  degree  the  in 
tellectual  standard  Mr.  Augustus  Rich 
ards  had  set  up  for  the  winner  of  his 
affections.  She  was  fond  of  poetry  and 
of  music.  She  was  a  student  of  letters, 
and  a  clever  talker  on  almost  all  the  arts 
and  sciences  in  which  Mr.  Augustus 
Richards  delighted.  But,  alas  !  physi 
cally  she  was  not  what  he  could  admire. 
She  was  small  and  insignificant  in  ap 
pearance.  She  was  pallid-faced,  and,  it 
must  be  confessed,  extremely  scant  of 
locks,  and  the  idea  of  marrying  her  was 
to  Mr.  Augustus  Richards  little  short  of 
preposterous.  Others  there  were,  too, 
who  attracted  him  in  some  measure,  but 
who  likewise  repelled  him  in  equal  if 
not  greater  measure. 

What  he  wanted  Mrs.  Augustus  Rich 
ards  to  be  was  a  composite  of  the  best 
223 


AN   AFFINITIVE    ROMANCE 

in  the  beautiful  Miss  Fotheringay,  the 
intellectual  Miss  Patterson,  the  comfort 
ably  rich  but  extremely  loud  Miss  Bar 
rows,  with  a  dash  of  the  virtues  of  all 
the  others  thrown  in. 

For  years  he  looked  for  such  a  one, 
but  season  after  season  passed  away  and 
the  ideal  failed  to  materialize,  as  un 
fortunately  most  ideals  have  a  way  of 
doing,  and  hither  and  yon  Mr.  Augustus 
Richards  went  unmarried,  and,  as  so 
ciety  said,  a  hopelessly  confirmed  old 
bachelor — more's  the  pity. 


II 

MISS  HENDERSON'S  STANDARD 

Miss  Flora  Henderson  was  born  and 
bred  in  Boston,  and,  like  Mr.  Augustus 
Richards,  had  reached  the  age  of  thirty 
without  having  yielded  to  the  allure 
ments  of  matrimony.  This  was  not  be 
cause  she  had  not  had  the  opportunity, 
for  opportunity  she  had  had  in  greatest 
measure.  She  made  her  first  appearance 
in  society  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  and 
for  every  year  since  that  interesting  oc- 
224 


AN   AFFINITIVE    ROMANCE 

casion  she  had  averaged  four  proposals 
of  marriage  ;  and  how  many  proposals 
that  involved,  every  person  who  can 
multiply  thirteen  by  four  can  easily  dis 
cover.  Society  said  she  was  stuck  up, 
but  she  knew  she  wasn't.  She  did  not 
reject  men  for  the  mere  love  of  it.  It 
was  not  vanity  that  led  her  to  say  no  to 
so  many  adoring  swains  ;  it  was  simply 
the  fact  that  not  one  in  all  the  great 
number  of  would-be  protectors  repre 
sented  her  notions  as  to  the  style  of  man 
with  whom  she  could  be  so  happy  that 
she  would  undertake  the  task  of  making 
him  so. 

Miles  Dawson,  for  instance,  was  the 
kind  of  man  that  any  ordinary  girl 
would  have  snapped  up  the  moment  he 
declared  himself.  He  had  three  safe- 
deposit  boxes  in  town,  and  there  was 
evidence  in  sight  that  he  did  not  rent 
them  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  cigars 
in  them.  He  had  several  horses  and 
carriages.  He  was  a  regular  attendant 
upon  all  the  social  functions  of  the  sea 
son,  and  at  many  of  them  he  appeared 
to  enjoy  himself  hugely.  At  the  musi 
cals  and  purely  literary  entertainments, 
however,  Miles  Dawson  always  looked, 
p  225 


AN    AFFINITIVE    ROMANCE 

as  he  was,  extremely  bored.  Once  Miss 
Henderson  had  seen  him  yawn  at  a  Shel 
ley  reading.  He  was,  in  short,  of  the 
earth  earthy,  or  perhaps,  to  be  more  ac 
curate,  of  the  horse  horsey.  Intellectual 
pleasures  were  naught  to  him  but  foun 
tains  of  ennui,  and  being  a  very  honest, 
frank  sort  of  a  person,  he  took  no  pains 
to  conceal  the  fact,  and  it  ruined  his 
chances  with  Miss  Henderson,  at  whose 
feet  he  had  more  than  once  laid  the  con 
tents  of  the  deposit-boxes — figuratively, 
of  course — as  well  as  the  use  of  his  sta 
bles  and  himself.  The  fact  that  he  look 
ed  like  a  Greek  god  did  not  influence  her 
in  the  least;  she  knew  he  was  by  nat 
ure  a  far  cry  from  anything  Greek  or 
godlike,  and  she  would  have  none  of 
him. 

Had  he  had  the  mental  qualities  of 
Henry  Webster,  the  famous  scholar  of 
Cambridge,  it  might  have  been  differ 
ent,  but  he  hadn't  these  any  more  than 
Henry  Webster  had  Dawson's  Greek  god 
liness  of  person. 

As  for  Webster,  he  too  had  laid  bare 

a  heart  full  of  affection  before  the  cold 

gaze  of  Miss  Flora  Henderson,  and  with 

no  more  pleasing  results  to  himself  than 

226 


AN   AFFINITIVE    ROMANCE 

had  attended  the  suit  of  his  handsome 
rival,  as  he  had  considered  Dawson. 

"  I  think  I  can  make  you  happy,"  he 
had  said,  modestly.  "  We  have  many 
traits  in  common.  We  are  both  extreme 
ly  fond  of  reading  of  the  better  sort. 
You  would  prove  of  inestimable  service 
to  me  in  the  advancement  of  my  ambi 
tion  in  letters,  as  well  as  in  the  educa 
tional  world,  and  I  think  you  would  find 
me  by  nature  responsive  to  every  wish 
you  could  have.  I  am  a  lover  of  music, 
and  so  are  you.  We  both  delight  in  the 
study  of  art,  and  there  is  in  us  both  that 
inherent  love  of  nature  which  would 
make  of  this  earth  a  very  paradise  for 
me  were  you  to  become  my  life's  com 
panion." 

Then  Miss  Flora  Henderson  had  look 
ed  upon  his  stern  and  extremely  homely 
face,  and  had  unconsciously  even  to  her 
self  glanced  rapidly  at  his  uncouth  fig 
ure,  and  could  not  bring  herself  to  an 
swer  yes.  Here  was  the  intellectual  man, 
but  his  physical  shortcomings  forbade 
the  utterance  of  the  word  which  should 
make  Henry  Webster  the  happiest  of 
men.  Had  he  written  his  proposal  he 
Would  have  stood  a  better  chance,  though 
227 


AN   AFFINITIVE    ROMANCE 

I  doubt  that  in  any  event  he  could  have 
succeeded.  Then  he  could  have  stood  at 
least  as  an  abstract  mentality,  but  the  in 
trusion  of  his  physical  self  destroyed  all. 
She  refused  him,  and  he  went  back  to 
his  books,  oppressed  by  an  overwhelm 
ing  sense  of  loneliness,  from  which  he 
did  not  recover  for  one  or  two  hours. 

So  it  went  with  all  the  others.  No 
man  of  all  those  who  sought  Miss  Hen 
derson's  favor  had  the  godlike  grace  of 
Miles  Dawson,  combined  with  the  strong 
intellectuality  of  Henry  Webster,  with  the 
added  virtues  of  wealth  and  amiability, 
steadfastness  of  purpose,  and  all  that. 
It  seemed  sometimes  to  Miss  Flora  Hen 
derson,  as  it  had  often  seemed  to  Mr. 
Augustus  Richards,  that  the  standard 
set  was  too  high,  and  that  an  all -wise 
Providence  was  no  longer  sending  the 
perfect  being  of  the  ideal  into  the  world, 
if,  indeed,  He  had  ever  done  so. 

Both  the  man  and  the  woman  were 
yearning,  they  came  finally  to  believe, 
after  the  unattainable,  but  each  was 
strong  enough  of  character  to  do  with 
nothing  less  excellent. 


AN   AFFINITIVE    ROMANCE 


III 


A     GLANCE     AT     MISS      FLORA     HENDERSON 
HERSELF 

But  what  sort  of  a  woman  was  Miss 
Flora  Henderson,  it  may  be  asked,  that 
she  should  demand  so  much  in  the  man 
with  whom  she  should  share  the  burdens 
of  life  ?  Surely  one  should  be  wellnigh 
perfect  one's  self  to  require  so  much  of 
another  —  and  I  really  think  Miss  Flora 
Henderson  was  so. 

In  the  first  place,  she  was  tall  and 
stately — Junoesque  some  people  called 
her.  She  had  an  eye  fit  for  all  things. 
It  was  soft  or  hard,  as  one  wished  it.  It 
was  melting  or  fixed,  according  to  the 
mood  one  would  have  her  betray.  She 
was  never  flippant,  and  while  the  small 
/things  of  life  interested  her  to  an  extent, 
much  more  absorbed  was  she  in  the 
great  things  which  pertain  to  existence. 
Dance  she  could,  and  well,  but  she 
danced  not  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other 
things.  With  dancing  people  she  was  a 
dancer  full  of  the  poetry  of  motion,  and 
enjoying  it  openly  and  innocently.  With 
229 


AN   AFFINITIVE    ROMANCE 

a  man  of  learning,  however,  she  was 
equally  at  home  as  with  the  callow 
youth.  With  nature  in  her  every  mood 
was  she  in  sympathy.  She  was  fond  of 
poetry  and  of  music  ;  indeed,  to  sum  up 
her  character  in  as  few  words  as  possi 
ble,  she  was  everything  that  so  critical 
a  dreamer  of  the  ideal  as  Mr.  Augustus 
Richards  could  have  wished  for,  nor  was 
there  one  weak  spot  in  the  armor  of  her 
character  at  which  he  could  cavil. 

In  short,  Miss  Flora  Henderson,  of 
Boston,  was  the  ideal  of  whom  Mr.  Au 
gustus  Richards,  of  New  York,  dreamed. 


IV 


A  BRIEF  GLIMPSE    OF   MR.   AUGUSTUS   RICH 
ARDS 

And  as  Miss  Flora  Henderson  repre 
sented  in  every  way  the  ideal  of  Mr. 
Augustus  Richards,  so  did  he  represent 
hers.  He  had  the  physical  beauty  of  Miles 
Dawson,  and  was  quite  the  equal  of  the 
latter  in  the  matter  of  wealth.  So  many 
horses  he  had  not,  but  he  owned  a  suffi 
cient  number  of  them.  He  was  not  horse- 
230 


AN   AFFINITIVE    ROMANCE 

mad,  nor  did  he  yawn  over  Shelley  or 
despise  aesthetic  pleasures.  In  truth,  in 
the  pursuit  of  aesthetic  delights  he  was 
as  eager  as  Henry  Webster.  He  was  in 
all  things  the  sort  of  man  to  whom  our 
heroine  of  Boston  would  have  been  will 
ing  to  intrust  her  hand  and  her  heart. 


V 

CONCLUSION 

But  they  never  met. 

And  they  lived  harjpily  ever  after. 


MRS.    UPTON'S    DEVICE 

A    TALE    OF    MATCH-MAKING 

I 

THE    RESOLVE 

"  For  when  two 

Join  in  the  same  adventure,  one  perceives 
Before  the  other  how  they  ought  to  act." 

— BRYANT. 

MRS.  UPTON  had  made  up  her  mind 
that  it  must  be,  and  that  was  the  begin 
ning  of  the  end.  The  charming  match 
maker  had  not  indulged  her  passion  for 
making  others  happy,  willy-nilly,  for 
some  time  —  not,  in  fact,  since  she  had 
arranged  the  match  between  Marie  Wil- 
loughby  and  Jack  Hearst,  which,  as  the 
world  knows,  resulted  first  in  a  marriage, 
and  then,  as  the  good  lady  had  not  fore 
seen,  in  a  South  Dakota  divorce.  This 
unfortunate  termination  to  her  well- 
232 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

meant  efforts  in  behalf  of  the  unhappy 
pair  was  a  severe  blow  to  Mrs.  Upton. 
She  had  been  for  many  years  the  busiest 
of  match -makers,  and  seldom  had  she 
failed  to  bring  about  desirable  results. 
In  the  homes  of  a  large  number  of  happy 
pairs  her  name  was  blessed  for  all  that 
she  had  done,  and  until  this  no  unhappy 
marriage  had  ever  come  from  her  efforts. 
One  or  two  engagements  of  her  design 
ing  had    failed  to   eventuate,  owing  to 
complications   over  which    she   had    no 
control,  and  with  which  she  was  in  no 
way  concerned  ;  but  that  was  merely  one 
of  the  risks  of  the  business  in  which  she 
was  engaged.     The  most  expert  artisan 
sometimes  finds  that  he  has  made  a  fail 
ure  of  some  cherished  bit  of  work,  but 
he  does  not  cease  to  pursue  his  vocation 
because  of  that.      So  it  was  with  Mrs. 
Upton,  and  when  some  of  her  plans  went 
askew,   and   two    young  persons   whom 
she  had  designed  for  each  other  chose 
to   take   two   other   young  people   into 
their  hearts   instead,   she   accepted   the 
situation  with  a  merely  negative  feeling 
of  regret.     But  when  she  realized  that 
it  was  she  who  had  brought  Marie  Wil- 
loughby  and  Jack  Hearst  together,  and 
233 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

had,  beyond  all  question,  made  the  match 
which  resulted  so  unhappily,  then  was 
Mrs.  Upton's  regret  and  sorrow  of  so 
positive  a  nature  that  she  practical 
ly  renounced  her  chief  occupation  in 
life. 

"  I'll  never,  never,  never,  so  long  as  I 
live,  have  anything  more  to  do  with 
bringing  about  marriages !"  she  cried, 
tearfully,  to  her  husband,  when  that  wor 
thy  gentleman  showed  her  a  despatch 
in  the  evening  paper  to  the  effect  that 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jack  had  invoked  the  West 
ern  courts  to  free  them  from  a  contract 
which  had  grown  irksome  to  both.  "  I 
shall  not  even  help  the  most  despairing 
lover  over  a  misunderstanding  which  may 
result  in  two  broken  hearts.  I'm  through. 
The  very  idea  of  Marie  Willoughby  and 
Johnny  Hearst  not  being  able  to  get 
along  together  is  preposterous.  Why, 
they  were  made  for  each  other." 

"I  haven't  a  doubt  of  it,"  returned  Up 
ton,  with  whom  it  was  a  settled  princi 
ple  of  life  always  to  agree  with  his  bet 
ter  half.  "  But  sometimes  there's  a  flaw 
in  the  workmanship,  my  dear,  and  while 
Marie  may  have  been  made  for  Jack,  and 
Jack  for  Marie,  it  is  just  possible  that 
234 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

the  materials  were  not  up  to  the  specifi 
cations." 

"Well,  it's  a  burning  shame,  anyhow," 
said  Mrs.  Upton,  "and  I'll  never  make 
another  match." 

"  That's  good,"  said  Upton.  "  I  would 
n't — or,  if  I  did,  I'd  see  to  it  that  it  was 
a  safety,  instead  of  a  fusee  that  burns 
fiercely  for  a  minute  and  then  goes  out 
altogether.  Stick  to  vestas." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  ves 
tas,  but  I'm  through  just  the  same,"  re 
torted  Mrs.  Upton ;  and  she  really  was — 
for  five  years. 

"Vestas  are  nice  quiet  matches  that 
don't  splurge  and  splutter.  They  give 
satisfaction  to  everybody.  They  burn 
evenly,  and  are  altogether  the  swell  thing 
in  matches  —  and  their  heads  don't  fly 
off  either,"  Upton  explained. 

"Well,  I  won't  make  even  a  vesta,  you 
old  goose,"  said  Mrs.  Upton,  smiling 
faintly. 

"You've  made  one,  and  it's  a  beauty," 
observed  Upton,  quietly,  referring  of 
course  to  their  own  case. 

So,  as  I  have  said,  Mrs.  Upton  forswore 
her  match-making  propensities  for  a  pe 
riod  of  five  years,  and  people  noting  the 
235 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

fact  marvelled  greatly  at  her  strength 
of  character  in  keeping  her  hands  out 
of  matters  in  which  they  had  once  done 
such  notable  service.  And  it  did  indeed 
require  much  force  of  character  in  Mrs. 
Upton  to  hold  herself  aloof  from  the 
matrimonial  ventures  of  others  ;  for,  al 
though  she  was  now  a  woman  close  upon 
forty,  she  had  still  the  feelings  of  youth ; 
she  was  fond  of  the  society  of  young 
people,  and  had  been  for  a  long  time  the 
best -beloved  chaperon  in  the  commu 
nity.  It  was  hard  for  her  to  watch  a 
growing  romance  and  not  help  it  along 
as  she  had  done  of  yore  ;  and  many  a 
time  did  her  lips  withhold  the  words 
that  trembled  upon  them — words  which 
would  have  furthered  the  fortunes  of  a 
worthy  suitor  to  a  waiting  hand  —  but 
she  had  resolved,  and  there  was  the  end 
of  it. 

It  is  history,  however,  that  the  strong 
est  characters  will  at  times  falter  and 
fall,  and  so  it  was  with  Mrs.  Upton  and 
her  resolution  finally.  There  came  a  time 
when  the  pressure  was  too  strong  to  be 
resisted. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  Henry,"  she  said,  as 
she  thought  it  all  over,  and  saw  where- 
236 


MRS.  UPTON'S    DEVICE 

in  her  duty  lay.  "We  must  bring  Molly 
Meeker  and  Walter  together.  He  is  just 
the  sort  of  a  man  for  her ;  and  if  there 
is  one  thing  he  needs  more  than  another 
to  round  out  his  character,  it  is  a  wife 
like  Molly." 

"  Remember  your  oath,  my  dear,"  re 
plied  Upton. 

"  But  this  will  be  a  vesta,  Henry," 
smiled  Mrs.  Upton.  "Walter  and  you  are 
very  much  alike,  and  you  said  the  other 
night  that  Molly  reminded  you  of  me— 
sometimes." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Upton.  "  She  does 
— that's  what  I  like  about  her — but,  after 
all,  she  isn't  you.  A  mill-pond  might 
remind  you  at  times  of  a  great  and 
beautiful  lake,  but  it  wouldn't  be  the 
lake,  you  know.  I  grant  that  Walter  and 
I  are  alike  as  two  peas,  but  I  deny  that 
Molly  can  hold  a  candle  to  you." 

u  Oh  you  !"  snapped  Mrs.  Upton. 
"  Haven't  you  got  your  eyes  opened  to 
my  faults  yet  ?" 

"  Yessum,"  said  Upton.  "  They're  great, 
and  I  couldn't  get  along  without  'em, 
but  I  wouldn't  stand  them  for  five  min 
utes  if  I'd  married  Molly  Meeker  instead 
of  you.  You'd  better  keep  out  of  this. 
237 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

Stick  to  your  resolution.  Let  Molly  choose 
her  own  husband,  and  Walter  his  wife. 
You  never  can  tell  how  things  are  going 
to  turn  out.  Why,  I  introduced  Willie 
Timpkins  to  George  Barker  at  the  club 
one  night  last  winter,  feeling  that  there 
were  two  fellows  who  were  designed  by 
Providence  for  the  old  Damon  and  Pyth 
ias  performance,  and  it  wasn't  ten  min 
utes  before  they  were  quarrelling  like  a 
couple  of  cats,  and  every  time  they  meet 
nowadays  they  have  to  be  introduced  all 
over  again." 

"  I  don't  wonder  at  that  at  all,"  said 
Mrs.  Upton.  "Willie  Timpkins  is  pre 
cisely  the  same  kind  of  a  person  that 
George  Barker  is,  and  when  they  meet 
each  other  and  realize  that  they  are  ex 
actly  alike,  and  see  how  sort  of  small 
and  mean  they  really  are,  it  destroys 
their  self-love." 

"I  never  saw  it  in  that  light  before," 
said  Upton,  reflectively,  "  but  I  imagine 
you  are  right.  There's  lots  in  that.  If 
a  man  really  wrote  down  on  paper  his 
candid  opinion  of  himself,  he'd  have  a 
good  case  for  slander  against  the  pub 
lisher  who  printed  it — I  guess." 

"  I  should  think  you'd  have  known 
238 


MRS.  UPTON'S    DEVICE 

better  than  to  bring  those  two  together, 
and  under  the  circumstances  I  don't  won 
der  they  hate  each  other,"  said  Mrs.Upton. 

"  Sympathy  ought  to  count  for  some 
thing,"  pleaded  Upton.  "  Don't  you 
think  ?" 

"Of  course,"  replied  Mrs.  Upton  ;  "but 
a  man  wants  to  sympathize  with  the 
other  fellow,  not  with  himself.  If  you 
were  a  woman  you'd  understand  that  a 
little  better.  But  to  return  to  Molly  and 
Walter — don't  you  think  they  really  were 
made  for  each  other?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Upton.  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  that  anybody  ever  was  made  for 
anybody  else.  On  that  principle  every 
baby  that  is  born  ought  to  be  labelled  : 
Fragile.  Please  forward  to  Soandso.  This 
'made -for -each -other'  business  makes 
me  tired.  It's  predestination  all  over 
again,  which  is  good  enough  for  an  ex 
press  package,  but  doesn't  go  where  souls 
are  involved.  Suppose  that  through  some 
circumstance  over  which  he  has  no  con 
trol  a  Michigan  man  was  made  for  a  Rus 
sian  girl — how  the  deuce  is  she  to  get 
him  ?" 

"That's  all  nonsense,  Henry,"  said  Mrs. 
Upton,  impatiently. 

239 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

"  I  don't  know  why,"  observed  Upton. 
"  I  can  quite  understand  how  a  Michi 
gan  man  might  make  a  first-rate  hus 
band  for  a  Russian  girl.  Your  idea  in 
volves  the  notion  of  affinity,  and  if  I  know 
anything  about  affinities,  they  have  to 
go  chasing  each  other  through  the  uni 
verse  for  cycle  after  cycle,  in  the  hope 
of  some  day  meeting — and  it's  all  beast 
ly  nonsense.  My  affinity  might  be  De 
lilah,  and  Samson's  your  beautiful  self  ; 
but  I'll  tell  you,  on  my  own  responsibil 
ity,  that  if  I  had  caught  Samson  hang 
ing  about  your  father's  house  during  my 
palmy  days  I'd  have  thrashed  the  life 
out  of  him,  whether  his  hair  was  short 
or  long,  and  don't  you  forget  it,  Mrs. 
Upton." 

Mrs.  Upton  laughed  heartily.  "I've  no 
doubt  you  could  have  done  it,  my  dear 
Henry,"  said  she.  "  I'd  have  helped  you, 
anyhow.  But  affinities  or  not,  we  are 
placed  here  for  a  certain  purpose — " 

" I  presume  so,"  said  Upton.  "  I  haven't 
found  out  what  it  is,  but  I'm  satis 
fied." 

"Yes — and  so  am  I.  Now,"  continued 
Mrs.  Upton,  "  I  think  that  we  all  ought 
to  help  each  other  along.  Whether  I  am 
240 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

your  affinity  or  not,  or  whether  you  are 
mine — " 

"  I  am  yours  —  for  keeps,  too,"  said 
Upton.  "I  shall  be  just  as  attentive  in 
heaven,  where  marriage  is  not  recog 
nized,  as  I  am  here,  if  I  hang  for 
it." 

"  Well — however  that  may  be,  we  have 
this  life  to  live,  and  we  should  go  about 
it  in  the  best  way  possible.  Now  I  be 
lieve  that  Walter  will  be  more  of  a  man, 
will  accomplish  more  in  the  end,  if  he 
marries  Molly  than  he  will  as  a  bachelor, 
or  if  he  married — Jennie  Perkins,  for  in 
stance,  who  is  so  much  of  a  manly  wom 
an  that  she  has  no  sympathy  with  either 
sex." 

u  Right !"  said  Upton. 

"  You  like  Walter,  don't  you,  and  want 
him  to  succeed  ?" 

"I  do." 

"You  realize  that  an  unmarried 
physician  hasn't  more  than  half  a 
chance  ?" 

"  Unfortunately  yes,"  said  Upton. 
"  Though  I  don't  agree  that  a  man  can 
cut  your  leg  off  more  expertly  or  carry 
you  through  the  measles  more  success 
fully  just  because  he  has  happened  to 
Q  241 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

get  married.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  when 
I  have  my  leg  cut  off  I  want  it  to  be 
done  by  a  man  who  hasn't  been  kept 
awake  all  night  by  the  squalling  of  his 
lately  arrived  son." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Mrs.  Upton,  "  so 
ciety  decrees  that  a  doctor  needs  a  wife 
to  round  him  out.  There's  no  disput 
ing  that  fact — and  it  is  perfectly  proper. 
Bachelors  may  know  all  about  the  sci 
ence  of  medicine,  and  make  a  fair  show 
ing  in  surgery,  but  it  isn't  until  a  man 
is  married  that  he  becomes  the  wholly 
successful  practitioner  who  inspires  con 
fidence." 

"  I  suppose  it's  so,"  said  Upton.  "  No 
doubt  of  it.  A  man  who  has  suffered 
always  does  do  better — " 

"Henry!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Upton,  se 
verely.  "  Remember  this :  I  didn't  mar 
ry  you  because  I  thought  you  were  a 
cynic.  Now  Walter  as  a  young  physi 
cian  needs  a  wife — " 

"  I  suppose  he's  got  to  have  somebody 
to  confide  professional  secrets  to,"  said 
Upton. 

"  That  may  be  the  reason  for  it,"  ob 
served  Mrs.  Upton  ;  "  but  whatever  the 
reason,  it  hi  a  fact.  He  needs  a  wife,  and 
242 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

I  propose  that  he  shall  have  one ;  and  it 
is  very  important  that  he  should  get  the 
right  one." 

"Are  you  going  to  propose  to  the  girl 
in  his  behalf?"  queried  Henry. 

"  No  ;  but  I  think  he's  a  man  of  sense, 
and  I  know  Molly  is.  Now  I  propose  to 
bring  them  together,  and  to  throw  them 
at  each  other's  heads  in  such  a  way  that 
they  won't  either  of  them  guess  that  I 
am  doing  it — " 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  interrupted  Upton, 
"don't !  Don't  try  any  throwing.  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do  that  no  woman 
can  throw  straight.  If  you  throw  Molly 
Meeker  at  Walter's  head — " 

"  I  may  strike  his  heart.  Precisely  !" 
said  Mrs.  Upton,  triumphantly.  "And 
that's  all  I  want.  Then  we  shall  have  a 
beautiful  wedding,"  she  added,  with  en 
thusiasm.  "  We'll  give  a  little  dinner  on 
the  i8th — a  nice  informal  dinner.  We'll 
.invite  the  Jacksons  and  the  Peltons  and 
Molly  and  Walter.  They  will  meet,  fall 
in  love  like  sensible  people,  and  there 
you  are." 

"  I  guess  it's  all  right,"  said  Upton, 
"though  to  fall  in  love  sensibly  isn't 
possible,  my  dear.  What  people  who  get 
243 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

married  ought  to  do  is  to  fall  unreason 
ably,  madly  in  love — " 

But  Mrs.  Upton  did  not  listen.  She  was 
already  at  her  escritoire,  writing  the  in 
vitations  for  the  little  dinner. 


II 

A    SUCCESSFUL    CASE 

"The  pleasantest  angling  is  to  see  the  fish 
.  .  .  greedily  devour  the  treacherous  bait." 
— Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 

THE  invitations  to  Mrs.  Upton's  little 
dinner  were  speedily  despatched  by  the 
strategic  maker  of  matches,  and,  to  her 
great  delight,  were  one  and  all  accepted 
with  commendable  promptness,  as  din 
ner  invitations  are  apt  to  be.  The  night 
came,  and  with  it  came  also  the  unsus 
pecting  young  doctor  and  the  equally 
unsuspicious  Miss  Meeker.  Everything 
was  charming.  The  Jacksons  were  pleased 
with  the  Peltons,  and  the  Peltons  were 
pleased  with  the  Jacksons,  and,  best  of 
all,  Walter  was  pleased  with  Miss  Meek 
er,  while  she  was  not  wholly  oblivious 
244 


MRS.  UPTON'S    DEVICE 

to  his  existence.  She  even  quoted  some 
thing  he  happened  to  say  at  the  table, 
after  the  ladies  had  retired,  leaving  the 
men  to  their  cigars,  and  had  added  that 
'•''that  was  the  way  she  liked  to  hear  a 
man  talk" — all  of  which  was  very  en 
couraging  to  the  well-disposed  spider 
who  was  weaving  the  web  for  these  two 
particular  flies.  As  for  Bliss  —  Walter 
Bliss,  M.D. — he  was  very  much  impress 
ed;  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  as  the  men 
left  their  cigars  to  return  to  the  ladies 
he  managed  to  whisper  into  Upton's  ear, 

"  Rather  bright  girl  that,  Henry." 

"  Very,"  said  Upton.  "  Sensible,  too. 
One  of  those  bachelor  girls  who've  got 
too  much  sense  to  think  much  about 
men.  Pity,  rather,  in  a  way,  too.  She'd 
make  a  good  wife,  but,  Lord  save  us ! 
it  would  require  an  Alexander  or  a  Na 
poleon  to  make  love  to  her." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Bliss,  confi 
dently.  "  If  the  right  man  came  along — " 

"  Of  course  ;  but  there  aren't  many 
right  men,"  said  Upton.  "  I've  no  doubt 
there's  somebody  equal  to  the  occasion 
somewhere,  but  with  the  population  of 
the  world  at  the  present  figures  there's  a 
billion  chances  to  one  she'll  never  meet 
245 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

him.  What  do  you  think  of  the  finan 
cial  situation,  Walter?  Pretty  bad,  eh?" 

Thus  did  the  astute  Mr.  Upton  play 
the  cards  dealt  out  to  him  by  his  fairer 
half  in  this  little  game  of  hearts  of  her 
devising,  and  it  is  a  certain  fact  that  he 
played  them  well,  for  the  interjection 
of  a  more  or  less  political  phase  into 
their  discussion  rather  whetted  than  oth 
erwise  the  desire  of  Dr.  Bliss  to  talk 
about  Miss  Meeker. 

"  Oh,  hang  the  financial  situation  ! 
Where  does  she  live,  Henry?"  was  Bliss's 
answer,  from  which  Upton  deduced  that 
all  was  going  well. 

That  his  deductions  were  correct  was 
speedily  shown,  for  it  was  not  many 
days  before  Mrs.  Upton,  with  a  radiant 
face,  handed  Upton  a  note  from  Walter 
asking  her  if  she  would  not  act  as  chap 
eron  for  a  little  sail  on  the  Sound  upon 
his  sloop.  He  thought  a  small  party  of 
four,  consisting  of  herself  and  Henry, 
Miss  Meeker  and  himself,  could  have  a 
jolly  afternoon  and  evening  of  it,  dining 
on  board  in  true  picnic  fashion,  and  re 
turning  to  earth  in  the  moonlight. 

"  How  do  you  like  that,  my  lord  ?"  she 
inquired,  her  eyes  beaming  with  delight. 
246 


MRS.  UPTON'S    DEVICE 

"  Dreadful !"  said  Henry.  "Got  to  the 
moonlight  stage  already — poor  Bliss  !" 

"Poor  Bliss  indeed,"  retorted  Mrs.  Up 
ton.  "  Blissful  Bliss,  you  ought  to  call 
him.  Shall  we  go  ?" 

"  Shall  we  go  ?"  echoed  Upton.  "  If  I 
fell  off  the  middle  of  Brooklyn  Bridge, 
would  I  land  in  the  water?" 

"I  don't  know,"  laughed  Mrs.  Upton. 
"You  might  drop  into  the  smoke-stack 
of  a  ferry-boat." 

"Of  course  we'll  go,"  said  Upton.  "I'd 
go  yachting  with  my  worst  enemy." 

"  Very  well.  I'll  accept,"  said  Mrs. 
Upton,  and  she  did.  The  sail  was  a  great 
success,  and  everything  went  exactly  as 
the  skilful  match  -  maker  had  wished. 
Bliss  looked  well  in  his  yachting  suit. 
The  appointments  of  the  yacht  were 
perfect.  The  afternoon  was  fine,  the  sup 
per  entrancing,  and  the  moonlight  irre 
sistible.  Miss  Meeker  was  duly  impress 
ed,  and  as  for  the  doctor,  as  Upton  put 
it,  he  was  "going  down  for  the  third 
time." 

"  If  you  aren't  serious  in  this  match, 
my  dear,  throw  him  a  rope,"  he  pleaded, 
in  his  friend's  behalf. 

"  He  wouldn't  avail  himself  of  it  if  I 
24? 


MRS.  UPTON'S    DEVICE 

did,"  said  Mrs.  Upton.  "  He  wants  to 
drown — and  I  fancy  Molly  wants  him  to, 
too,  because  I  can't  get  her  to  mention 
his  name  any  more." 

"  Is  that  a  sign  ?"  asked  Upton. 

"  Indeed  yes  ;  if  she  talked  about  him 
all  the  time  I  should  be  afraid  she  wasn't 
quite  as  deeply  in  love  as  I  want  her  to 
be.  She's  only  a  woman,  you  know, 
Henry.  If  she  were  a  man,  it  would  be 
different." 

The  indications  were  verified  by  the 
results.  August  came,  and  Mrs.  Upton 
invited  Miss  Meeker  to  spend  the  month 
at  the  Uptons'  summer  cottage  at  Skir- 
ton,  and  Bliss  was  asked  up  for  "  a  day 
or  two  "  while  she  was  there. 

"  Isn't  it  a  little  dangerous,  my  dear  ?" 
Upton  asked,  when  his  wife  asked  him 
to  extend  the  hospitality  of  the  cottage 
to  Bliss.  "  I  should  think  twice  before 
asking  Walter  to  come." 

"  How  absurd  you  are  !"  retorted  the 
match-maker.  "  What  earthly  objection 
can  there  be  ?" 

"  No  objection  at  all,"  returned  Up 
ton,  "  but  it  may  destroy  all  your  good 
work.  It  will  be  a  terrible  test  for  Wal 
ter,  I  am  afraid — breakfast,  for  instance, 
248 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

is  a  fearful  ordeal  for  most  men.  They 
are  so  apt  to  be  at  their  very  worst  at 
breakfast,  and  it  might  happen  that 
Walter  could  not  stand  the  strain  upon 
him  through  a  series  of  them.  Then 
Molly  may  not  look  well  in  the  morn 
ings.  How  is  that  ?  Is  she  like  you — 
always  at  her  best  ?" 

Mrs.  Upton  replied  with  a  smile.  It 
was  evident  that  she  did  not  consider 
the  danger  very  great. 

"  They  might  as  well  get  used  to  see 
ing  each  other  at  breakfast,"  she  said. 
"  If  they  find  they  don't  admire  each 
other  at  that  time,  it  is  just  as  well  they 
should  know  it  in  advance." 

Hence  it  was,  as  I  have  said,  that  Bliss 
was  invited  to  Skirton  for  a  day  or  two. 
And  the  day  or  two,  in  the  most  natural 
way  in  the  world,  lengthened  out  into 
a  week  or  two.  There  were  walks  and 
talks  ;  there  were  drives  and  long  horse 
back  rides  along  shaded  mountain  roads, 
and  when  it  rained  there  were  mornings 
in  the  music-room  together.  Bliss  was 
good-natured  at  breakfast,  and  Molly 
developed  a  capacity  for  appearing  to 
advantage  at  that  trying  meal  that 
aroused  Upton's  highest  regard ;  and 
249 


MRS.  UPTON'S    DEVICE 

finally — well,  finally  Miss  Molly  Meeker 
whispered  something  into  Mrs.  Upton's 
ear,  at  which  the  latter  was  so  overjoyed 
that  she  nearly  hugged  her  young  friend 
to  death. 

"  Here,  my  dear,  look  out,"  remon 
strated  Upton,  who  happened  to  be  pres 
ent.  "Don't  take  it  all.  Perhaps  she 
wants  to  live  long  enough  to  whisper 
something  to  me." 

"  I  do,"  said  Molly,  and  then  she  an 
nounced  her  engagement  to  Walter 
Bliss  ;  and  she  did  it  so  sweetly  that 
Upton  had  all  he  could  do  to  keep  from 
manifesting  his  approval  after  the  fash 
ion  adopted  by  his  wife. 

"I  wish  I  was  a  literary  man,"  said 
Upton  to  his  wife  the  next  day,  when 
they  were  talking  over  the  situation. 
"  If  I  knew  how  to  write  I'd  make  a  fort 
une,  I  believe,  just  following  up  the  lit 
tle  romances  that  you  plan." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  Henry,"  replied  Mrs. 
Upton.  "  I  don't  plan  any  romances — I 
select  certain  people  for  each  other  and 
bring  them  together,  that  is  all." 

"  And  push  'em  along — prod  'em  slight 
ly  when  they  don't  seem  to  get  started, 
eh  ?"  insinuated  Upton. 
250 


MRS.  UPTON'S    DEVICE 

"  Well,  yes — sometimes." 

"  And  what  else  does  a  novelist  do  ? 
He  picks  out  two  people,  brings  them  to 
gether,  and  pushes  them  along  through 
as  many  chapters  as  he  needs  for  his 
book,"  said  Henry.  "That's  all.  Now 
if  I  could  follow  your  couples  I'd  have 
a  tremendous  advantage  in  basing  my 
studies  on  living  models  instead  of  hav 
ing  to  imagine  my  realism.  I  repeat  I 
wish  I  could  write.  This  little  romance 
of  Mollie  and  Walter  that  has  just  end 
ed—" 

"Just  what?"  asked  Mrs.  Upton. 

"Just  ended,"  repeated  Upton.  "What's 
the  matter  with  that  ?" 

"  You  mean  just  begun,"  said  Mrs. 
Upton,  with  a  sigh.  "  The  hardest  work 
a  match-maker  has  is  in  conducting  the 
campaign  after  the  nominations  are 
made.  When  two  people  love  each  oth 
er  madly,  they  are  apt  to  do  a  great  deal 
of  quarrelling  over  absolutely  nothing, 
and  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  an  engage 
ment  means  marriage  until  the  ceremony 
has  taken  place." 

"And  even  then,"  suggested  Henry, 
"  there  are  the  divorce  courts,  eh  ?" 

"  We  won't  refer  to  them,"  said  Mrs. 
251 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

Upton,  severely  ;  "  they  are  relics  of  bar 
barism.  But  as  for  the  ending  of  my 
romance,  my  real  work  now  begins.  I 
must  watch  those  two  young  people  care 
fully  and  see  that  their  little  quarrels  are 
smoothed  over,  their  irritations  allayed, 
and  that  every  possible  difference  be 
tween  them  is  adjusted." 

"  But  you  and  I  didn't  quarrel  when 
we  were  engaged,"  persisted  Upton. 

"  No,  we  didn't,  Henry,"  replied  Mrs. 
Upton.  "  But  that  was  only  because  it 
takes  two  to  make  a  quarrel,  and  I  loved 
you  so  much  that  I  was  really  blind  to 
all  your  possibilities  as  an  irritant." 

"  Oh  !"  said  Henry,  reflectively. 


Ill 

A    SET-BACK 

"All  is  confounded,  all! 
Reproach  and  everlasting  shame 
Sits  mocking  in  our  plumes." 

—Henry  V. 

TIME   demonstrated  with  great  effec 
tiveness  the  unhappy  fact  that  Mrs.  Up 
ton  knew  whereof  she  spoke  when  she 
252 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

likened  an  engagement  to  a  political 
campaign,  in  that  the  real  battle  begins 
after  the  nominations  are  made.  Walter 
Bliss  had  decided  views  as  to  life,  and 
Miss  Meeker  was  hardly  less  settled  in 
her  convictions.  Long  before  she  had 
met  Bliss,  in  default  of  a  real  she  had 
builded  up  in  her  mind  an  ideal  man, 
which  at  first,  second,  and  even  third 
sight  Walter  had  seemed  to  her  to  rep 
resent.  But  unfortunately  there  is  a 
fourth  sight,  and  the  lover  or  the  fiancee 
who  can  get  beyond  this  is  safe — com 
paratively  safe,  that  is,  for  everything 
in  this  world  has  its  merits  or  its  de 
merits,  comparatively  speaking,  and  the 
comparison  is  more  often  than  not 
made  from  the  point  of  view  of  what 
ought  to  be  rather  than  of  what  really  is. 
Mrs.  Upton  was  a  realist — that  is,  she 
thought  she  was ;  and  so  was  Miss 
Meeker.  Everybody  looks  at  life  from 
his  or  her  own  point  of  view,  and  there 
must  always  be,  consequently,  two  points 
of  view,  for  there  will  always  be  a  male 
way  and  a  female  way  of  looking  at 
things.  Walter  was  in  love  with  his 
profession.  Molly  was  in  love  with  him 
as  an  abstract  thing.  She  knew  nothing 
253 


MRS.  UPTON'S    DEVICE 

of  him  as  a  Washington  fighting  measles; 
she  was  not  aware  whether  he  could 
combat  tonsillitis  as  successfully  as  Na 
poleon  fought  the  Austrians  or  not,  and 
it  may  be  added  that  she  didn't  care. 
He  was  merely  a  man  in  her  estima 
tion  ;  a  thing  in  the  abstract,  and  a  most 
charming  thing  on  the  whole.  He,  on 
the  other  hand,  looked  upon  her  not  as 
a  woman,  but  as  a  soul,  and  a  purified 
soul  at  that :  an  angel,  indeed,  without 
the  incumbrance  of  wings,  was  she,  and 
with  a  rather  more  comprehensive  knowl 
edge  of  dress  than  is  attributed  to  most 
of  angels.  But  two  people  cannot  go  on 
forming  an  ideal  of  each  other  continu 
ously  without  at  some  time  reaching  a 
point  of  divergence,  and  Walter  and 
Molly  reached  that  point  within  ten 
weeks.  It  happened  that  while  calling 
upon  her  one  evening  Walter  received  a 
professional  summons  which  he  admitted 
was  all  nonsense — why  should  people 
call  in  doctors  when  it  is  "all  non 
sense"? 

The  call  came  while  Walter  was  turn 
ing  over  the  leaves  at  the  piano  as  Molly 
played. 

"  What  is  this  ?"  he  said,  as  he  opened 
254 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

the  note  that  was  addressed  to  him. 
"  Humph  !  Mrs.  Hubbard's  boy  is  sick — " 

"  Must  you  go  ?"  Molly  asked. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Walter.  "  I  saw 
him  this  afternoon,  and  there  is  not  the 
slightest  thing  the  matter  with  him,  but 
I  must  go." 

"Why?"  asked  Molly.  "Are  you  the 
kind  of  doctor  they  call  in  when  there's 
nothing  the  matter?" 

She  did  not  mean  to  be  sarcastic,  but 
she  seemed  to  be,  and  Walter,  of  course, 
like  a  properly  sensitive  soul,  was  hurt. 

"  I  must  go,"  he  said,  positively,  ignor 
ing  the  thrust. 

"  But  you  say  there  is  nothing  the 
matter  with  the  boy,"  suggested  Molly. 

"I'm  going  just  the  same,"  said  Wal 
ter,  and  he  went. 

Molly  played  on  at  the  piano  until  she 
heard  the  front  door  slam,  and  then  she 
rose  up  and  went  to  the  window.  Wal 
ter  had  gone  and  was  out  of  sight. 
Then,  sad  to  say,  she  became  philo 
sophical.  It  doesn't  really  pay  for  girls 
to  become  philosophical,  but  Molly  did 
not  know  that,  and  she  began  a  course 
of  reasoning. 

"  He  knows  he  isn't  needed,  but  he 
255 


MRS.  UPTON'S  DEVICE 

goes,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  gazed 
dejectedly  out  of  the  window  at  the  gas- 
lamps  on  the  other  side  of  the  street. 
"  And  he  will  of  course  charge  the  Hub- 
bards  for  his  services,  admitting,  how 
ever,  that  his  services  are  nothing.  That 
is  not  conscientious  —  it  is  not  profes 
sional.  He  is  not  practising  for  the  love 
of  his  profession,  but  for  the  love  of 
money.  I  am  disappointed  in  him — 
and  we  were  having  such  a  pleasant 
time,  too  !" 

So  she  ran  on  as  she  sat  there  in  the 
window-seat  looking  out  upon  the  dreary 
street  ;  and  you  may  be  sure  that  the 
commingling  of  her  ideals  and  her  dis 
appointments  and  her  sense  of  loneliness 
did  not  help  Walter's  case  in  the  least, 
and  that  when  they  met  the  next  time 
her  manner  towards  him  was  what  some 
persons  term  "  sniffy,"  which  was  a  man 
ner  Walter  could  not  and  would  not 
abide.  Hence  a  marked  coolness  arose 
between  the  two,  which  by  degrees  be 
came  so  intensified  that  at  about  the  time 
when  Mrs.  Upton  was  expected  to  be 
called  in  to  assist  at  a  wedding,  she  was 
stunned  by  the  information  that  "  all  was 
over  between  them." 
256 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

"  Just  think  of  that,  Henry,"  the  good 
match-maker  cried,  wrathfully.  "All  is 
over  between  them,  and  Molly  pretends 
she  is  glad  of  it." 

"  Made  for  each  other  too  !"  ejaculated 
Upton,  with  a  mock  air  of  sorrow.  "  What 
was  the  matter?" 

"  I  can't  make  out  exactly,"  observed 
Mrs.  Upton.  "  Molly  told  me  all  about 
it,  and  it  struck  me  as  a  merely  silly 
lovers'  quarrel,  but  she  won't  hear  of  a 
reconciliation.  She  says  she  finds  she 
was  mistaken  in  him.  I  wish  you'd  find 
out  Walter's  version  of  it." 

"I  respectfully  refuse,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Upton,"  returned  Henry.  "  I'm  not  a 
partner  in  your  enterprise,  and  if  you 
get  a  misfit  couple  returned  on  your 
hands  it  is  your  lookout,  not  mine.  Pity, 
isn't  it,  that  you  can't  manage  matters 
like  a  tailor?  Suit  of  clothes  is  made 
for  me,  I  try  it  on,  don't  like  it,  send  it 
back  and  have  it  changed  to  fit.  If  you 
could  make  a  few  alterations  now  in 
Molly—" 

"  Henry,  you  are  flippant,"  asserted 
Mrs.  Upton.  "  There's  nothing  the  mat 
ter  with  Molly — not  the  least  little  thing  ; 
and  Walter  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  him- 
R  257 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

self  to  give  her  up,  and  I'm  going  to  see 
that  he  doesn't.  I  believe  a  law  ought 
to  be  made,  anyhow,  requiring  engaged 
persons  who  want  to  break  off  to  go  into 
court  and  show  cause  why  they  shouldn't 
be  enjoined  from  so  doing." 

"A  sort  of  antenuptial  divorce  law, 
eh?"  suggested  Upton.  "That's  not  a 
bad  idea  ;  you  ought  to  write  to  the  pa 
pers  and  suggest  it — using  your  maiden 
name,  of  course,  not  mine." 

"  If  you  would  only  find  out  from  Wal 
ter  what  he's  mad  at,  and  tell  him  he's 
an  idiot  and  a  heartless  thing,  maybe  we 
could  smooth  it  out,  because  I  know  that 
'way  down  in  her  soul  Molly  loves  him." 

"Very  well,  I'll  do  it,"  said  Upton, 
good-naturedly;  "but  mind  you  it's  only 
to  oblige  you,  and  if  Bliss  throws  me  out 
of  the  club  window  for  meddling  in  his 
affairs,  it  will  be  your  fault." 

The  doctor  did  not  quite  throw  Upton 
out  of  the  window  that  afternoon  when 
the  subject  came  up,  but  he  did  the  next 
thing  to  it.  He  turned  upon  him,  and 
with  much  gravity  remarked  :  "  Upton, 
I'll  talk  politics,  finance,  medicine,  sur 
gery,  literature,  or  neck -ties  with  you, 
but  under  no  circumstances  will  I  talk 
258 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

about  woman  with  anybody.  I  prefer  a 
topic  concerning  which  it  is  possible  oc 
casionally  to  make  an  intelligent  surmise 
at  least.  Woman  is  as  comprehensible 
to  a  finite  mind  as  chaos.  Who's  your 
tailor?" 

u  You  ought  to  have  seen  us  when  he 
said  that,"  observed  Upton  to  his  wife,  as 
he  told  her  about  the  interview  at  dinner 
that  evening.  "  He  was  as  solemn  as  an 
Alp,  and  apparently  as  immovable  as  the 
Sphinx ;  and  as  for  me,  I  simply  withered 
on  my  stalk  and  crumbled  away  into 
dust.  Wherefore,  my  love,  I  am  through  ; 
and  hereafter  if  you  are  going  to  make 
matches  for  my  friends  and  need  outside 
help,  get  a  hired  man  to  help  you.  I'm 
did.  If  I  were  you  I'd  let  'em  go  their 
own  way,  and  if  their  lives  are  spoiled, 
why,  your  conscience  is  clear  either 
way." 

But  Mrs.  Upton  had  no  sympathy  with 
any  such  view  as  that.  She  had  been  so 
near  to  victory  that  she  was  not  going  to 
surrender  now  without  one  more  charge. 
She  tried  a  little  sounding  of  Bliss  her 
self,  and  finally  asked  him  point-blank  if 
he  would  take  dinner  with  herself  and 
Upton  and  Molly  and  make  it  up,  and  he 
259 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

declined  absolutely  ;  and  it  was  just  as 
well,  for  when  Molly  heard  of  it  she  as 
serted  that  she  had  no  doubt  it  would 
have  been  a  pleasant  dinner,  but  that 
nothing  could  have  induced  her  to  go. 
Sh£  never  wished  to  see  Dr.  Bliss  again — 
not  even  professionally.  Mrs.  Upton  was 
gradually  becoming  utterly  discouraged. 
The  only  hopeful  feature  of  the  situation 
was  that  there  were  no  "  alternates  "  in 
volved.  Bliss  was  done  forever  with 
woman  ;  Miss  Meeker  had  never  cared 
for  any  man  but  Walter.  Time  passed, 
and  the  lovers  were  adamant  in  their 
determination  never  to  see  each  other 
again.  Repeated  efforts  to  bring  them 
together  failed,  until  Mrs.  Upton  was  in 
despair.  It  is  always  darkest,  however, 
just  before  dawn,  and  it  finally  happened 
that  just  as  hopelessness  was  beginning 
to  take  hold  of  Mrs.  Upton's  heart  her 
great  device  came  to  her. 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 
IV 

THE    DEVICE 

"Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell, 
And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage  bell." 

—  Childe  Harold. 

"  HENRY,"  said  Mrs.  Upton,  one  cold 
January  morning,  a  great  light  of  possi 
bilities  dawning  upon  her  troubled  soul, 
"  don't  you  want  to  take  me  to  the  opera 
next  Saturday?  Calve  is  to  sing  in 
'  Cavalleria,'  and  I  am  very  anxious  to 
hear  her  again." 

"  I  am  sorry,  but  I  can't,"  Upton  an 
swered.  "  I  have  an  engagement  with 
Bliss  at  the  club  on  Saturday.  We're 
going  to  take  lunch  and  finish  up  our 
billiard  tournament.  I've  got  a  lead  of 
forty  points." 

;<  Oh  !  Well,  then,  get  me  two  seats, 
and  I'll  take  Molly,"  said  the  astute 
match-maker.  "And  never  mind  about 
their  being  aisle  seats.  I  prefer  them  in 
the  middle  of  the  row,  so  that  everybody 
won't  be  climbing  over  us  when  they  go 
out  and  in." 

261 


MRS.   UPTON'S  DEVICE 

"  All  right ;  I  will,"  said  Henry,  and 
the  seats  were  duly  procured. 

Saturday  came,  and  Upton  went  to  the 
club,  according  to  his  appointment  with 
Walter  ;  but  Bliss  was  not  there,  nor  had 
he  sent  any  message  of  explanation.  Up 
ton  waited  until  three  o'clock,  and  still 
the  doctor  came  not ;  and  finally  he  left 
the  club  and  sauntered  up  the  Avenue  to 
his  house,  calling  down  the  while  impre 
cations  upon  the  absent  Walter. 

"  Hang  these  doctors  !"  he  said,  vicious 
ly.  "  They  seem  to  think  professional 
engagements  are  the  only  ones  worth 
keeping.  Off  in  his  game,  I  fancy.  That's 
the  milk  in  the  cocoanut." 

Five  minutes  later  he  entered  his  li 
brary,  and  was  astonished  to  see  Mrs. 
Upton  there  reading. 

"  Why,  hullo  !  You  here  ?"  he  said.  "  I 
thought  you  were  at  the  opera." 

"  No,  I  didn't  go,"  Mrs.  Upton  replied, 
with  a  smile. 

"  There  seems  to  be  something  in  the 
air  that  prevents  people  from  keeping 
their  engagements  to-day.  Bliss  didn't 
turn  up,"  said  Henry.  "What  did  you 
do  with  the  tickets  ?" 

"  I  sent  Molly  hers  by  messenger,  and 
262 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

told  her  I'd  join  her  at  the  opera-house," 
said  Mrs.  Upton,  her  face  beaming.  "  Did 
you  say  Walter  didn't  go  to  the  club  ?" 
she  added,  anxiously. 

"  Yes.  He's  a  great  fellow,  he  is  !  Got 
no  more  idea  about  sticking  to  an  engage 
ment  than  a  cat,"  said  Upton.  "  Afraid 
of  my  forty  points,  I  imagine." 

"  Possibly ;  but  maybe  this  will  account 
for  it,"  said  Mrs.  Upton,  with  a  sigh  of  re 
lief,  which  hardly  seemed  necessary  under 
the  circumstances,  handing  her  husband 
a  note. 

"  What's  this  ?"  asked  Upton,  scanning 
the  address  upon  the  envelope. 

"A  note — from  Walter,"  Mrs.  Upton 
replied.  "  Read  it." 

And  Upton  read  as  follows  : 

"SATURDAY  MORNING,  January  — ,  189-. 
"Mv  DEAR  MRS.  UPTON,— I  am  sorry  to  hear 
that  Henry  is  called  away,  but  there  are  com 
pensations.  If  I  cannot  take  luncheon  with  him, 
it  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  listen  to 
Calv6  in  your  company.  I  may  be  a  trifle  late, 
but  I  shall  most  certainly  avail  myself  of  your 
kind  thought  of  me. 

"Yours  faithfully, 

"WALTER  BLISS." 

"  What  the  deuce  is  this  ?"  asked  Up- 
263 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

ton.    "  I  called  away  ?     Who  said  I  was 
called  away  ?" 

"  I  did,"  said  Mrs.  Upton,  pursing  her 
lips  to  keep  from  indulging  in  a  smile. 
"  As  soon  as  you  left  this  morning  I  wrote 
Walter  a  note,  telling  him  that  you  had 
been  hurriedly  called  to  Philadelphia  on 
business,  and  that  you'd  asked  me  to  let 
him  know,  not  having  time  to  do  it  your 
self.  And  I  closed  by  saying  that  we  had 
two  seats  for  'Cavalleria,'  and  that,  as 
my  expected  guest  had  disappointed  me, 
I  hoped  he  might  come  in  if  he  felt  like 
it  during  the  afternoon  and  hear  Calv6. 
That's  his  answer.  I  enclosed  him  the 
ticket." 

"  So  that — "  said  Upton,  beginning  to 
comprehend. 

"  So  that  Molly  and  Walter  are  at  the 
opera  together.  Hemmed  in  on  both 
sides,  so  that  they  can't  escape,  with  the 
Intermezzo  before  them  !"  said  Mrs.  Up 
ton,  with  an  air  of  triumph  which  was 
beautiful  to  look  upon. 

"  Well,  you  are  a  genius  !"  cried  Upton, 
finding  his  wife's  enthusiasm  contagious. 
"  I'm  almost  afraid  of  you  !" 

"  And  you  don't  think  I  did  wrong  to 
fib  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Upton. 
264 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

"Oh,  as  for  that,"  said  Upton,  "all 
geniuses  lie  !  An  abnormal  development 
in  one  direction  always  indicates  an  ab 
normal  lack  of  development  in  another. 
Your  bump  of  ingenuity  has  for  the  mo 
ment  absorbed  your  bump  of  veracity  ; 
but  I  say,  my  dear,  I  wonder  if  they'll 
speak  ?" 

"  Speak  ?"  echoed  Mrs.  Upton.  "  Speak  ? 
Why,  of  course  they  will  !  Everybody 
talks  at  the  opera,"  she  added,  joyously. 

An  hour  later  the  door-bell  rang,  and 
the  maid  announced  Miss  Meeker  and 
Dr.  Bliss.  They  entered  radiant,  and  not 
in  the  least  embarrassed. 

"  Why,  how  do  you  do  ?"  said  Upton, 
as  calmly  as  though  nothing  had  hap 
pened.  "  Didn't  see  you  at  the  club," 
he  added,  with  a  sly  wink  at  his  wife. 

"Thought  you  were  out  of  town,"  said 
Bliss ;  and  then  he  turned  and  glanced 
inquiringly  at  the  lovely  deceiver.  But 
Mrs.  Upton  said  nothing.  She  was  other 
wise  engaged ;  for  Molly,  upon  entering 
the  room,  had  walked  directly  to  her 
side,  and  throwing  her  arms  about  her 
neck,  kissed  her  several  times  most  af 
fectionately. 

"  You  dear  old  thing !"  she  whispered. 
265 


MRS.  UPTON'S   DEVICE 

"Mrs. — Upton — I'm  very  much  obliged 
to  you  for  a  very  pleasant  afternoon," 
stammered  Bliss,  recovering  from  his 
surprise,  the  true  inwardness  of  the  situ 
ation  dawning  upon  him,  "  as  well  as  for 
— a  good  many  pleasant  afternoons  to 
come.  I — ah— I  didn't  see— ah— Molly 
until  I  got  seated." 

"No,"  said  Molly;  "and  if  he  could 
have  gotten  away  without  disturbing  a 
lot  of  people,  I  think  he'd  have  gone 
when  he  realized  where  he  was.  And  he 
wouldn't  speak  until  the  Intermezzo  was 
half  through." 

"  Well,  I  tried  hard  not  to  even  then," 
said  Walter ;  "  but  somehow  or  other, 
when  the  Intermezzo  got  going,  I  couldn't 
help  it,  and — well,  it's  to  be  next  month." 

And  so  it  was.  The  wedding  took  place 
six  weeks  later ;  and  all  through  the  ser 
vice  the  organist  played  the  Intermezzo 
in  subdued  tones,  which  some  people 
thought  rather  peculiar — but  then  they 
were  not  aware  of  all  the  circumstances. 


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FREDERIC  REMINGTON,  and  from  Photographs  taken  by 
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THREE   GRINGOS   IN  VENEZUELA   AND   CENTRAL 

AMERICA.     Illustrated.     $1  50. 
ABOUT  PARIS.     Illustrated  by  C.  D.  GIBSON.    $1  25. 

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THE  RULERS  OF  THE  MEDITERRANEAN.  Illus 
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Mr.  Davis  has  eyes  to  see,  is  not  a  bit  afraid  to  tell  what 
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faculty  of  appreciation  and  enjoyment  is  fresh  and  strong  : 
he  makes  vivid  pictures Outlook,  N.  Y. 

Richard  Harding  Davis  never  writes  a  short  story  that 
he  does  not  prove  himself  a  master  of  the  art. — Chicago 
Times.  

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BY  CHAKLES  DUDLEY  WAENER 


THAT  FORTUNE.     Post  8vo,  Half  Leather,  $1  50. 

"  That  Fortune  "  is  a  vivid  and  powerful  portrayal  of  New  York 
life.  It  is  the  third  in  a  trilogy,  being  in  a  way  a  sequel  to  "  A  Little 
Journey  in  the  World  "  and  "  The  Golden  House." 

THE  PEOPLE  FOR  WHOM  SHAKESPEARE  WROTE, 
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THE  RELATION  OF  LITERATURE  TO  LIFE.  Post 
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A  LITTLE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WORLD.  A  Novel. 
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STUDIES  IN  THE  SOUTH  AND  WEST,  with  Comments 
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AS  WET  GO.  With  Portrait  and  Illustrations.  IGmo, 
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THE  WORK  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING.     With  Por 
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Mr.  Warner  has  such  a  fine  fancy,  such  a  genial  humor, 

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Gazette. 


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BY  A.  CONAN  DOYLE 

THE  REFUGEES.     A  Tale  of  Two  Continents. 
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THE  WHITE  COMPANY.      Illustrated.     Post 
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MICAH  CLARKE.    Illustrated.   Post  8vo,  Cloth, 
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THE  AD  VENTURES  OF  SHERLOCK  HOLMES. 

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CONTENTS  :  A  Scandal  in  Bohemia,  The  Red-headed 
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tery,  The  Five  Orange  Pips,  The  Man  with  the  Twisted 
Lip,  The  Blue  Carbuncle,  The  Speckled  Band,  The  Engi 
neer's  Thumb,  The  Noble  Bachelor,  The  Beryl  Coronet, 
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MEMOIRS  OF  SHERLOCK   HOLMES.     Illus 

trated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  50. 

CONTENTS  :  Silver  Blaze,  The  Yellow  Face,  The  Stock- 
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ual,  The  Reigate  Puzzle,  The  Crooked  Man,  The  Resident 
Patient,  The  Greek  Interpreter,  The  Navy  Treaty,  The 
Final  Problem. 
THE  PARASITE.  A  Story.  Illustrated.  Post 

8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  00. 
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mental,  $1  00.       - 

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